《通玄真经》Vol. 1

The Tongxuan Zhenjing is the Wenzi.

Laozi said, “There was something whole and undivided that existed before Heaven and Earth took shape. It had an appearance, but no concrete form. Deep and dim, still and quiet, it could not be heard. I reluctantly gave it a name and called it the Dao (the Way).”

The Dao is so lofty that it cannot be reached at its end, and so deep that it cannot be measured. It encompasses Heaven and Earth, yet has no fixed form of its own. Its source and course are vast; it is empty and still, never overflowing. When turbid things settle, they gradually become clear. The Dao’s workings are without end, with no distinction between day and night. When it becomes visible, it is so small that it cannot fill a single hand; yet from simplicity it unfolds, from darkness it becomes clear, and from weakness it grows strong. It gathers Yin and exhales Yang, bringing light to the sun, moon, and stars. Mountains are high because of the Dao, and abysses are deep because of it. Animals run and birds fly by its power. Qilins roam, phoenixes soar, and the stars move, all in accordance with the Dao. The Dao gains the advantage by yielding, attains eminence through humility, and takes the lead by placing itself behind.

The Three Sovereigns of antiquity—the three legendary rulers of remote ancient times—grasped the root of the Dao. They dwelt at the center, their minds and spirits attuned to the transformations through which Heaven and Earth bring forth life, and in this way they brought peace to the four directions. Thus Heaven and Earth turn without rest, revolving in cycles without stopping. Water flows without cease, passing with all things through birth and death, beginning and end. Winds rise and clouds gather; thunder sounds and rain falls. All manner of transformations answer one another without end. Though things are carved and adorned, in the end they return to simplicity.

Acting through Wuwei (non-action), one can accord with life and death. Without deliberately speaking, one can embody De (Virtue/Power). When the heart is calm and joyful and does not boast of itself, harmony is attained. Though all things differ, each can find what suits its way of life.

The Dao harmonizes Yin-Yang, regulates the seasons, and coordinates the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). It nourishes plants and trees and seeps into metal and stone. Birds and beasts grow strong, their feathers and fur sleek. Eggs do not perish, and young animals are not stillborn. Fathers need not fear losing their sons; elder brothers need not weep for younger brothers who die. Children are not left desolate, and women are not widowed. No rainbows appear, and no thieves cause disorder. These are the results of the Dao’s hidden virtue.

The highest and enduring Dao gives life to and nourishes all things, yet claims no possession of them. It brings about their transformations, yet does not rule them. All things depend on it to live, but do not know its kindness; they depend on it in death, yet do not resent it. It gathers and stores up all things, yet does not thereby grow richer. It gives to all things and supplies what they receive, yet does not thereby grow poorer.

The Dao is elusive and indistinct, impossible to portray in a concrete image. It is elusive and hard to grasp, yet its workings are never exhausted. Deep and remote, it responds to change without fixed form. It runs its course freely and does not act recklessly without cause. As firmness and softness change, it expands and contracts; as Yin and Yang wax and wane, it bends and shifts.

Laozi said: The true great person is calm within, giving rise to no deluded thoughts and feeling no anxiety. They take Heaven for a canopy, Earth for a carriage, the four seasons for horses, and Yin-Yang (the forces through which all things wax and wane and change) for the driver. They travel without any fixed road, roam without weariness, and come and go without being confined by gates.

Taking Heaven for a canopy, there is nothing that cannot be covered; taking Earth for a carriage, there is nothing that cannot be carried; taking the four seasons for horses, there is nothing that cannot be driven; being guided by Yin-Yang, one can accord with every kind of change. Thus, their actions are swift yet undisturbed, their journeys far-reaching yet free from fatigue. Their limbs need not labor, and their intelligence is not depleted, yet they can see through all under Heaven. This is because they have grasped the essentials of the Dao and behold the boundless expanse of Heaven and Earth.

The affairs of the world need not be forced into submission; things should instead be guided in accordance with their natural state. The changes of the myriad things cannot each be turned back; one should grasp what is essential and direct them toward what is fitting. Therefore, the sage values cultivating the inner root rather than adorning outward branches. They invigorate the spirit and restrain cleverness and opinions. So they may seem indifferent and inactive, yet nothing is left undone; they may seem to leave things without governing, yet nothing is poorly governed.

“Wuwei (non-action)” means not forcing action ahead of events. “Non-governance” means not altering things’ natural state. “Nothing left unguided” means allowing things to proceed naturally by following the relationships and tendencies inherent among them.

Laozi said: Those who hold to the Dao (the Way) in governing the people respond to each situation according to its own circumstances. When things change, they adapt to those changes. Thus, there is no change among the myriad things to which they cannot respond, and no shift in affairs that they cannot bring into harmony.

The Dao has five qualities: emptiness, simplicity, stillness, softness, and unadorned purity. These are the ways it manifests. Emptiness is the Dao’s dwelling place; simplicity is its true nature; stillness is its clear mirror; softness is its function. Reversal and return are the Dao’s constant pattern. Softness can bring strength to fruition, and weakness can bring power to fruition. Unadorned purity is the Dao’s foundation.

“Empty” means that the heart-mind is vacant and does not take on anything from the outside. “Simple” means that the heart-mind is free of burdens. To be occupied by neither cravings nor desires is emptiness brought to its utmost; to have neither preferences nor aversions is simplicity brought to its utmost; to remain single-minded and unwavering is stillness brought to its utmost; to remain unmixed with external things is purity brought to its utmost; to feel neither sorrow nor joy is De (Virtue/Power) brought to its utmost.

When the perfected person—one who has reached a profound level—governs the people, they set aside displays of cleverness and eloquence, and follow the Dao rather than relying on schemes and contrived intelligence. They join the people in upholding impartial fairness. They restrain what they hold to and lessen their desires, reject temptations and covetousness, abandon the pursuit of status and gratification, and let go of excessive deliberation and clever devices.

By restraining what they hold to, they see clearly; by reducing what they seek, they gain. Thus, by using inner cultivation to regulate outward conduct, they can handle all affairs well. Only by having a firm grasp within can one govern matters outside. When the heart-mind is settled, the five viscera are at peace, thoughts become calm, the sinews and bones grow strong, and the ears and eyes become more keen.

The Great Dao is broad and level, and not far from people. If one searches for it in distant places, one will eventually reach the end and return to oneself.

Laozi said: The sage does not make governing others a priority, but focuses on cultivating himself. He does not value power and status, but values inner contentment. When a person is content within, the world naturally turns toward him. He takes no pleasure in wealth and rank, but finds joy in peace and balance. To value oneself and regard the things of the world as insignificant is to draw near to the Dao (the Way). Thus it is said: “Attain the utmost emptiness and stillness; hold fast to deep calm. The myriad things grow together, and from this I observe how they return.”

The Dao gives life to the myriad things and runs through them from beginning to end, yet has no fixed form. It is silent and still, reaching into the obscure depths of chaos. It is so vast that nothing beyond it can define it, and so subtle that it cannot be divided any further within. It is not confined by narrow spaces, and arises between being and nonbeing.

The True Person—one whose being is joined with the Dao—takes emptiness, ease, stillness, softness, purity, and simplicity as guiding principles. Unmixed with external things, he embodies the highest virtue of the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth; hence he is called a True Person. He values himself and regards the things of the world as insignificant, cultivating himself rather than governing others. He does not let external things disturb his inner peace, nor desires disrupt his nature. He conceals his name, withdrawing when the Dao prevails and appearing in the world when it does not. He acts in accordance with what is natural and does not force action; in handling affairs, he does not interfere recklessly. He knows not to assume that he knows everything. He holds the Way of Heaven in his heart and embraces Heaven’s mind. He breathes in and out in rhythm with Yin and Yang, exhaling old Qi and inhaling new Qi. He contracts with Yin and expands with Yang, following the changes of hardness and softness and the rising and falling of Yin and Yang. His heart is one with Heaven, and his being one with the Dao. He has no particular joy, sorrow, delight, or anger. He sees all things as interwoven and does not cling to affirming or denying.

When the human body is harmed by bitter cold, scorching heat, dryness, dampness, and the like, it declines, and the spirit becomes blocked. When the spirit is harmed by joy, anger, thought, worry, and grief, it is depleted, though the body remains. The True Person employs his mind and spirit, taking his nature as his foundation and spirit as his guide, so that body and mind sustain one another from beginning to end. Thus, he dreams not in sleep and has no worries when awake.

Confucius asked Laozi about the Dao. Laozi said: “Set your body upright and fix your gaze; then the harmonious Qi bestowed by Heaven will arrive. Gather in your mind and set your conduct in order; then spirit will come to dwell within you. De will become your bearing, and the Dao your dwelling place. Let your eyes be as clear as those of a newborn calf, asking nothing of the past. Let your body be like withered wood and your mind like dead ashes. True wisdom lies in not relying on cunning and contrivance to sustain yourself, but in keeping an open heart with no schemes to devise. ‘Can you understand all that reaches in every direction and yet not presume to know?’”

Laozi said: Those who deal with worldly affairs must act in response to change. Change arises with the times, so action has no fixed, unchanging form. Thus it is said: “A Dao that can be explained in words is not the constant Dao; a name that can be clearly defined is not a constant name.”

Written records arise from words, and words in turn come from human thought. Yet knowledge gained through thought cannot fully express the constant Dao. Even when names can be defined, they cannot contain the Dao in books. “The more one hears, the more easily one falls into confusion; better to hold fast to inner balance.” “Set aside acquired learning, and there will be no worries.” “Do not exalt sage wisdom or prize cleverness, and the people will benefit more.” All of these speak of the constant Dao.

At birth, the heart-mind is calm and clear; this is one’s inborn nature. To be stirred by external things and act in response is to damage that nature. When things arrive from outside and one responds, this is the result of mental activity. When the mind engages with external things, likes and dislikes arise. Once these preferences and aversions come to the surface, the mind is drawn along by the outside world and cannot return to itself; its original heavenly principle then disappears.

Thus the sage does not alter human nature through artificial means. Outwardly, he adapts to the changes of things, while inwardly he does not lose his true self. One who understands the Dao returns to calm and stillness. One whose heart-mind is not occupied by external things can ultimately attain Wuwei (non-action). By nurturing the mind with quiet simplicity and bringing the spirit into harmony with the Dao through stillness, one enters a boundless realm. Those who follow their nature walk with the Dao; those who follow worldly conventions merely contend with the world.

Therefore, the sage does not let affairs disturb human nature or desires unsettle genuine feelings. He does not scheme, yet acts appropriately; he speaks little, yet earns people’s trust; he does not calculate anxiously, yet gains what he needs; he does not act deliberately, yet brings things to completion. So he may occupy a high position without making the people feel burdened. He may walk ahead of everyone without harming them. People throughout the world turn to him, and those who do wrong hold him in awe. Because he does not contend with anything, no one dares contend with him.

Laozi says: Once people are led by desire, they lose their original nature, and what they do often departs from the right Way. Govern a state in this condition, and the state will fall into disorder; use it to cultivate yourself, and body and mind will be harmed. Those who do not understand the Dao cannot return to their original nature; those who do not understand the patterns of things cannot remain calm and still.

In tracing human nature to its source, we find that it was originally free of evil and defilement. But when people dwell for a long time among external things, their nature is easily changed. They gradually forget their roots and act according to dispositions acquired through habit. Water is clear by nature, but sand and stones muddy it; human nature is peaceful by nature, but preferences and desires damage it. Only the sage can let go of attachment to external things and turn inward to observe himself.

Thus, the sage does not use cleverness to make all things serve him, nor allow desire to disturb the calm of his heart. When joy comes, he does not rejoice to excess; when sorrow comes, he does not grieve without end. In this way, he may hold a high position without danger and remain secure without falling.

When people hear beneficial words, even the foolish know to agree. When they hear of the noble De of the sage, even those of poor character feel admiration. Yet many agree, while few truly put the words into practice; many admire, while few truly attain such virtue. This is because people are entangled in external things and constrained by worldly customs. As the old saying goes: “When I practice Wuwei (non-action), the people transform of themselves; when I refrain from meddling, the people grow wealthy of themselves; when I love stillness, the people become upright of themselves; when I have no private desires, the people become simple of themselves.”

Stillness is the highest expression of De, and softness is the way the Dao acts. The empty, tranquil, and formless may seem vast, while things with form seem small. The formless may seem abundant, while things with form are limited; the power of the formless is strong, while things with form seem weak; the foundation of the formless is full, while things with form seem empty. Things with form are the outcome of a process brought to completion; the formless is the source from which all things begin. When a process is complete, it takes the shape of a particular object; before it unfolds, it remains in a state of undivided simplicity.

Things with form make sounds; the formless is silent. Form comes from the formless, so the formless is the beginning of form. What is rich and conspicuous has a reputation, and people value it for its completeness. What is simple and plain goes unnamed and is often scorned. The wealthy and prominent have a name and are readily honored; the poor and obscure go unnamed and are often left low and powerless. What is strong and conspicuous is easy to display; what is yielding and subtle is hard to notice. Those who have more are readily praised; those who have less often remain unnoticed and humble. Achievement brings a name; without achievement, there is no name. Fame arises from namelessness, and namelessness is the source of fame. This is how the Way of Heaven works: being and nonbeing give rise to one another, and difficulty and ease bring one another to completion.

The sage holds to the Dao and cultivates De through emptiness, stillness, and subtlety. From the Dao comes De; from De comes achievement; from achievement comes fame. Once fame has been gained, one can return to the root of the Dao. In this way, achievement and fame can be preserved for a long time, with few faults over a lifetime. Princes and nobles often pursue achievement and fame, while the lowly and solitary have neither. So the sage calls himself “solitary” and “alone,” thereby returning to the root. He accomplishes things without claiming them as his own: achievement can bring benefit, while the nameless, formless root does its work in truth.

In ancient times, the people were simple and unknowing, like children who could not tell east from west. Their outward appearance matched their inner selves; their words did not go beyond their actions, and their actions did not seek to look impressive. Their speech was unadorned, and their clothing was plain. The divine De within them had not been damaged, and they knew nothing that could harm them. If the mind forgets thoughts of greed and harm, one can approach even a hungry tiger by its tail—how much more so another person?

Those who embody the Dao are at ease and never exhausted; those who rely entirely on schemes and skill toil without achieving much. Severe laws and punishments, with executions imposed at every turn, are not the foundation of a ruler’s governance. Nor is constant whipping and driving a good way to travel far by carriage. When loves and hatreds multiply, misfortune follows. The laws of the early kings were not invented from nothing; they followed principles already present in things. Their prohibitions and punishments were not imposed arbitrarily, but upheld with care. Follow the patterns of things, and your work will grow great; make things up at will, and your reach will be small. Uphold sound principles, and your foundations will be firm; act recklessly, and failure will come easily.

Relying only on the ears and eyes to listen and look exhausts the spirit and obscures the Way. Governing a state through clever plans wears out the mind without bringing results. The ability of one person alone cannot bring peace to all under Heaven; one person’s strength may not even suffice to manage three mu of land. Follow the patterns of principle and accord with the natural order of Heaven and Earth, and even the vast realm of Heaven, Earth, and the four directions can be brought into harmony. Hearing is easily disturbed by blame and praise, and sight is easily enticed by beauty. Ritual propriety cannot restrain love and desire, but a sincere heart can move people in distant lands.

Nothing is more harmful than a will that has lost its proper course; even a sharp sword is not the greatest threat. The greatest calamity comes from Yin-Yang falling out of balance, while things like beating drums and sounding horns are minor matters. Great calamities lie hidden deep in the human heart and often make no sound or sign. Medium calamities lurk in the wilderness; small ones run loose among the people. Thus it is said: “The more cleverness and cunning the people possess, the more strange things arise; the more numerous the laws and decrees, the more thieves there are.” Set aside such practices and choose stillness and Wuwei, and natural disasters and human calamities are less likely to arise. To govern a state through clever schemes is a calamity for the state; to govern without clever schemes is its blessing and De.

“Yu” is the root of all things, from which Heaven, Earth, and all things arise. When these three fundamental principles are set in motion, they merge into the formless. The formless is what is called “the One.” The One is a state of selflessness, in which one joins with all under Heaven. Spread kindness without repeatedly demanding that it be watered like a plant; put things to use without laboring by design. The Dao cannot be seen or heard, yet it brings forth things with form, gives rise to every kind of music, reveals every flavor, and displays every color. Thus being arises from nonbeing, and fullness arises from emptiness.

The basic kinds of sound are no more than five, yet the combinations and variations of the five tones cannot be exhausted in hearing. The basic kinds of taste are no more than five, yet the variations of the five flavors cannot be exhausted in tasting. The basic kinds of color are no more than five, yet the variations of the five colors cannot be exhausted in seeing. Once the tone gong is established, the other five tones have a basis; once sweetness is established, the five flavors have a standard; once white is established, the five colors have a point of reference. The Dao establishes the root, and from it all things come into being.

Thus, when the principle of the One is put into practice throughout the four seas, its blessings shine across Heaven and Earth. In its wholeness, it is as solid and simple as uncarved wood; when dispersed, it is turbid like chaos. In the midst of turbidity, it slowly becomes clear; in emptiness, it slowly grows full. It is calm as the sea and spreads far and wide like floating clouds. It seems to be nothing, yet it is real; it seems to vanish, yet it is always present.

Laozi says that one who has attained the Dao (the Way) is humble and gentle within, yet firm and capable in action. The mind is empty and still, responding to things with discernment. “Weak in intention” means having a gentle, quiet disposition: not scrambling to possess things or forcing action recklessly. It means being unassuming and free of craving, following things as they naturally unfold, while acting without missing the right moment. Thus it is said, “Nobility must take lowliness as its root; what is high must rest on what is low.” By using the small to contain the great, one remains inwardly centered while directing what is external. One acts gently, yet can be strong and forceful. No power can overcome such a person, and no enemy can overpower them. They adapt to change and seize the moment, so they are not easily harmed.

To become firm, one should preserve oneself through gentleness; to become powerful, one should remain whole through humility and weakness. When gentleness has accumulated to a certain point, it can become firmness; when humility and weakness have accumulated to a certain point, they can become strength. By observing how things accumulate, one can tell whether they are headed toward flourishing or decline. The strong can overcome those weaker than themselves, but against an equal they may reach a stalemate. Gentleness, by contrast, can overcome those stronger than itself, and its power is hard to measure. Thus it is said, “When weapons grow mighty, they bring about ruin; when trees grow hard, they are easily broken.” Leather that is too rigid cracks. Teeth are harder than the tongue, yet often perish before it. Therefore it is said, “Weakness is the root of life; strength belongs to the realm of death.”

Acting first can sometimes lead to difficulty, while acting later often reveals a path to success. By following the Dao in responding to change, one can act first and still restrain those who act later, or act later and restrain those who act first. In this way, one neither loses the means to direct others nor becomes subject to their control.

To “act later” means adjusting one’s actions to changes in things so they accord with the right moment. Moments change swiftly, with scarcely a pause: act too soon and one goes too far; act too late and one falls behind. The sun and moon continue on their courses, and time does not stop for anyone. Therefore, the sage does not prize a jade disk a foot across, but cherishes an inch of time, because the right moment is hard to come by and easily lost.

Thus the sage acts in keeping with the moment and accomplishes their aims by making use of what is already at hand. They hold to the still and quiet Dao, remain gentle, yielding, and humble, and respond to changing circumstances. Usually, they act later rather than rushing ahead. Gentle and calm, composed and steady, they are beyond the power of even the hardest and most forceful to overcome.

Laozi says: When the heart harbors clever schemes and calculations, its plain and natural nature is no longer pure. People wear clothes only to keep warm, without concern for ornament. Their weapons are blunt and edged-less, they walk slowly, and their eyes are dim. They draw water from wells to drink and till the fields to grow grain for food. They do not bestow favors to win a reputation, nor do they seek a reputation for virtue. They do not contend over rank, nor compare one another’s strengths and weaknesses. When customs are uniform, people can follow them; when tasks are assigned according to ability, they are easy to carry out. As for misleading the world through self-praise and false display, or leading people astray through unnatural conduct, the sage does not regard such ways as proper customs.

Volume Two: Sincerity

Laozi says: Heaven attains its vast height, Earth its deep breadth; the sun and moon shine, the stars gleam, and Yin-Yang is in harmony. None of this is the result of deliberate contrivance. Each follows the proper course, and all things grow naturally. Yin-Yang and the four seasons do not themselves directly bring forth all things, nor do rain and dew intentionally nourish plants and trees. When the vital energy of the spirits meets and Yin-Yang is in harmony, all things come into being.

The Dao is the fundamental state in which vital essence is stored within and the spirit is settled in the heart. The mind is tranquil and free of desire, gentle and composed, open and without form, still and soundless. Govern a state in this way, and the offices seem to have nothing to disturb them, while the court seems to have no one causing disorder. There are no people who withdraw from the world, no people who distance themselves from public affairs, and no burdensome labor or resentment-provoking punishments. All under Heaven admire the ruler’s example and intentions. Even distant lands with different customs come, through successive translations, to pledge their allegiance. This does not happen because the ruler personally visits every household, but because sincerity is extended throughout the world.

Therefore, rewarding the good and punishing violence are proper measures of government. Their implementation depends on sincerity—a genuine and earnest intention. Even clear measures cannot carry themselves out; they must be upheld by sincerity. If the people are governed through the Great Dao yet still do not obey, it is because sincerity has not reached them.

Laozi also says: Heaven sets the sun, moon, and stars in their places, arranges the four seasons, and harmonizes Yin-Yang. Rewarding the good and punishing evil is a way to set government measures aright; their implementation depends on sincerity. Though the measures may be clear, they cannot be carried out on their own: sincerity must support them. Thus, if the people are guided by the Great Dao yet still do not obey, sincerity has not encompassed them.

Laozi said: Heaven establishes the sun and moon, sets the stars in their courses, arranges the four seasons, and harmonizes Yin-Yang. By day, sunlight shines on all things; by night, all things are allowed to rest. Wind dries them, while rain and dew moisten them. When things grow, people cannot see what is nourishing them, yet they see them flourish day by day. When things decline and die, people cannot see what they have lost, yet they see them gradually perish. This is called the divine and the numinous: the subtle, invisible workings of nature.

Therefore, sages follow the example of Heaven and Earth. They bring blessings, though people cannot see where the blessings come from; the blessings simply arise on their own. They dispel calamities, though people cannot see how the calamities vanish; the calamities simply subside on their own. The reasons behind this are difficult to fathom, yet careful examination shows that it is no illusion. By short-term calculations, the results may seem insufficient; viewed over time, however, what has accumulated proves more than enough. Sages are silent and still, yet a single word from them can bring great change throughout the world. This is because they advance their teachings in accord with Heaven’s intent.

When inner sincerity is complete, it can move Heaven: an Auspicious Star appears, a Yellow Dragon descends, a phoenix arrives, sweet springs well up, fine grain grows, the Yellow River does not flood, and the sea raises no great waves. When people defy the Dao and harm living things, omens appear: the sun and moon are obscured or eclipsed, the five planets stray from their courses, the seasons fall into disorder, daylight grows dim while the night glows, mountains collapse and rivers run dry, thunder sounds in winter, and frost falls in summer.

Heaven and humanity are interconnected, so when a state declines and falls, the signs in the heavens change; when the world is in disorder, portents such as rainbows appear. All things are linked, and their vital essences respond to one another. Thus, the workings of the divine and the numinous cannot be gained through clever calculation or forced through sheer power.

Therefore, the great person’s De accords with that of Heaven and Earth, their radiance with that of the sun and moon, their spiritual subtlety with that of spirits, and their actions with the turning of the seasons. They keep the Dao in their hearts, receive the Qi of the Earth, and preserve stillness and emptiness while holding the energy of harmony within. Without leaving their hall, they can govern the whole realm. They transform customs and lead the people toward goodness, as though these changes arose from the people themselves. This is governing the world through the subtle power of transformation.

Laozi said: The principle for one who cultivates the Dao is to preserve one's nature (xing) and hold fast to simplicity and genuineness (zhenpu), without harming oneself. When faced with urgent peril, one can still penetrate to the Heavenly Dao (Tiandao). So long as one never leaves the root, what can fail to succeed? Life and death belong to the same domain, and one cannot use force or humiliation to oppress them. Moreover, one who can govern heaven and earth, embrace the myriad things, return to the process of creation (zaohua), and hold the Qi of supreme harmony has never truly died to begin with.

When inner sincerity (jingcheng) manifests, outwardly it can make others' minds understand. This is a Dao that cannot be transmitted through words. The sage (shengren) in high position holds the Great Dao in his heart but does not speak much, and his grace naturally reaches the common people. Therefore the effect of teaching without words is vast and boundless. When rulers and ministers become estranged and abandon virtue (De), the signs of perversity and deceit appear in the heavens. When human hearts and Shen (spirit) respond to one another, the principle is very subtle. This is what is meant by clarifying without words and the Dao without speech.

To draw in people from afar, let affairs follow their natural course. To draw close those nearby, there is no need for contrivance. Only one who walks at night can fully grasp this principle. Withdraw the carriages and horses that rush about, letting them return to farming, and do not let their wheel-tracks lead to distant places. This is called zuo chi lu chen (sitting still while the mind gallops, sinking into the world). The body sits at rest, yet the mind can gallop ten thousand li and also settle quietly within worldly dust. The Heavenly Dao shows no partiality to anyone. It does not deliberately favor anyone or deliberately shun anyone. Those of great capacity obtain more than enough, and those of little capacity obtain too little. Accord with the Dao and there is benefit; go against it and there is danger. Therefore, governing a state through cunning and calculation cannot be sustained for long. Only by according with Dahe (the state of harmony and balance between heaven and earth), holding to naturalness and responding to affairs as they arise, can a state be well governed.

Laozi said: The relation between Dao and De is like that between a wall and its hide. Seen from afar they seem close, but examined closely they differ. One wishes to study them carefully, yet cannot grasp their form, though on close inquiry they are not empty. Thus the sage is like a mirror. He does not welcome things in advance, nor chase after them afterward. When things arrive, he reflects them faithfully, yet does not keep them stored in his heart. He does not cling to external things, and therefore external things cannot harm him.

To obtain it is like losing it; to lose it is like obtaining it. Therefore one who penetrates Dahe seems dazed with wine and peacefully asleep, yet roams freely within the Great Dao, as if he had never left the root. This is called Datong (penetrating the Great Dao). It shows that what appears to use no skill is precisely what achieves true function.

Those who truly attain it lose it, and those who lose it in fact attain it. Therefore, one who has penetrated Great Harmony (Dahe), the state in which all things are in harmony and balance, is serene and at rest, like someone who has drunk a little wine and sleeps peacefully, untroubled and content, as though they had never departed from the origin of all things. This is called Great Pervasion (Datong), the state of being connected to the origin of all things. It appears to be wuwei (non-action), yet it accomplishes true efficacy.

Laozi said: In ancient times, the Yellow Emperor governed the world. He regulated the movements of the sun and moon, managed the Yin-Yang qi, arranged the seasons, and corrected the musical pitches and the calendar. He distinguished men from women and fixed the order of superiors and inferiors, so that the strong did not oppress the weak, and the many did not bully the few. The common people were able to preserve their lives without dying young. The harvests were abundant and there were no famines. The officials each kept to their duties and did not favor private interests. Superiors and subordinates were in harmony, and no one bore resentment. The laws were clear and not obscure or ambiguous. The ministers who assisted the ruler were fair and did not show partiality toward factions. Farmers yielded to one another over field boundaries. No one picked up lost items on the road, and no one in the marketplace pushed prices up for their own gain. At that time the sun, moon, and stars moved without losing their regular courses, the winds and rains came in their proper seasons, the five grains flourished, phoenixes soared in the courtyards, and qilin roamed the outlying fields.

When Fuxi (a legendary sovereign of high antiquity) ruled the world, life was simple and stable, and people followed the seasonal rhythms of autumn harvest and winter storage. He bore up the earth and embraced the heavens. He cleared the stagnant blockages within the Yin-Yang qi and eliminated the disorderly qi and the calamities that harmed the people. His people were simple and unlearned, unable to tell east from west. Their gaze was dull and their steps unsteady, yet they were carefree and content, not knowing where this way of life had come from. They drifted along as their inclinations led, unaware of their origin and unaware of where they were going. In that age, birds, beasts, insects, and serpents all put away their claws and fangs and hid their stingers, and the efficacy of governance matched that of Heaven and Earth.

Later, the Yellow Emperor paid respectful homage beneath the ancestral temple of his forebears, yet did not display his own merit or proclaim his own fame. He quietly kept the Dao of the Perfected Person (zhenren), one who embodies the Dao and is in accord with nature, and he followed the original patterns by which Heaven and Earth operate. In this way, his De could penetrate upward, and human cleverness and calculation gradually receded.

Laozi said: If Heaven were not stable, the sun and moon would have nowhere to rest; if Earth were not stable, plants and trees would have nowhere to grow; if people's bodies and minds were not at peace, right and wrong could not appear. Therefore, only when there are those who truly embody the Dao (the Way) does true wisdom arise. If one is not even clear about the standards on which one relies, how can one know that what one calls "knowing" is in fact not knowing?

Accumulating kindness, enriching wealth, and bringing joy to the people so that they delight in their lives is benevolence (ren). Establishing great achievements and a fine reputation, fulfilling the duties of ruler and minister, rectifying the order between superiors and inferiors, distinguishing kin from strangers, preserving a state in peril, continuing a lineage that has been cut off, and establishing heirs for those who have none is righteousness (yi). Blocking the nine orifices (the sense openings such as the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth), gathering the mind-will, discarding cunning and cleverness, and returning to the uncarved state; drifting freely beyond the mundane world, wandering at ease in the realm of non-action (wuwei), harmonizing the Yin-Yang qi (vital energy), and dwelling in accord with the myriad things is De (Virtue). Therefore, when the Dao disperses, it becomes De; when De is full, it flows into benevolence and righteousness; and once benevolence and righteousness are established, the Dao and De instead decline and fall into disuse.

Laozi said: Those whose spirit has transcended the mundane tend to have florid words, and those whose virtue is unsteady will have hypocritical conduct. What is truly subtle lies deep within the heart, while words and deeds are displayed outwardly, and such people inevitably allow themselves to be governed by external things. Their energy is ultimately limited, while outward activity has no end; when the inner mind cannot hold steady, it is drawn outward into pursuit by the customs of the world. Therefore, the sage cultivates the Dao within and does not ornament benevolence and righteousness without. He understands the proper use of the nine orifices and the four limbs (the parts of the body), and lets the spirit move in peace and ease. This is the realm in which the sage roams.

Laozi said: When the sage roams, his mind and spirit move within a state of utmost emptiness. His intention wanders through Taiwu (Great Nothingness), the boundless void that contains all things, rides beyond the dust of the mortal world, and walks in a realm with no gate to enter. He listens to sounds that have no sound and beholds forms that have no shape. He is not bound by worldly things, nor burdened by the habits of ordinary life.

Therefore, the principles by which the sage transforms the world are not surpassed by the perfected person (zhenren), and the deeds by which the worthy rectify the customs of the age are not regarded by the sage. If a person is constrained by worldly conventions, the body is held in check and the spirit is dissipated, and so one inevitably falls into distinction and contention. Whatever binds a person must be that their life has come to depend upon external things.

Laozi said: when a ruler's mind can keep the spirit settled and not race wildly about inside the breast, when wisdom does not range beyond the four directions to scheme recklessly, and when the ruler holds to benevolence and sincerity, then the rains will fall in their season and the five grains will flourish. In spring the seed is sown and grows, in summer it is nurtured and matures, in autumn it is harvested, and in winter it is stored. Officials are inspected monthly and assessed on schedule, and taxes are delivered at year's end. The ruler nourishes the people with fairness and builds authority through good faith. Laws are simple and not burdensome, and teaching sinks deep into people's hearts. Laws are lenient and punishments light, so the prisons stand empty, customs across the realm are unified, and the people harbor no treacherous thoughts. This is the sage's way of thinking.

When those in high positions crave without restraint, those below will compete for merit and refuse to yield. The people, impoverished and suffering, quarrel with one another, and human strength is spent to little effect. Deceitful schemes then take root, bandits grow ever more numerous, superiors and inferiors resent each other, and commands cannot be carried out. When water is muddy, fish rise to the surface to gasp for air; when edicts are harsh, the people fall into disorder. Where the ruler's desires are many, the deceit below is great. Where those above stir things constantly, those below cannot find peace. Where those above demand without limit, those below fight over what they can get. To govern without addressing the root and only patch the branches is like digging open a canal and expecting the water to stop, or like carrying firewood to put out a fire.

The sage disturbs the people little, yet achieves good governance. With few needs, provision is ample. Without deliberately bestowing favors, people feel benevolence. Speaking little, he earns trust. Without striving, he obtains what is needed. Without acting rashly, affairs succeed. He keeps to his natural disposition, guards the most genuine state, upholds the Dao (the Way) and practices good faith, and the people of the realm respond like an echo answering a sound or a shadow following a form. The sage cultivates the root.

Laozi said: when the spirit scatters outward and thought churns within, one cannot govern oneself. When the spirit is directed to distant places, one overlooks what is near at hand. Thus it is said: "Without going beyond the door, one knows the whole world; without looking out the window, one knows the Way of Heaven; the farther one travels, the less one knows." This means that when sincerity arises from the heart, one's spirit and breath can resonate with Heaven.

Laozi said: Winter sunlight and summer shade draw all things toward them, and no one has to drive them. This is the subtlest kind of responsiveness in nature. Things arrive without being summoned and move without being pushed. It is profound and far-reaching, and no one can say who is acting, yet its effects arise on their own.

If governance depends entirely on watching with the eyes and issuing orders by speech, it will be hard to govern well. Gao Yao (a legendary ancient judicial official), though unable to speak, served as Grand Minister of Justice (the official in charge of judicial affairs), and the realm had no abuse of cruel punishments. This shows that significant effects can arise without speech. Shi Kuang (a music master of the state of Jin), though blind, served as Grand Steward (the official in charge of governmental affairs), and Jin had no disordered administration. This shows that one can discern affairs clearly without relying on sight. The sage, through commands that need no spoken words and a clarity that needs no visual inspection, becomes the teacher of the common people.

The people are transformed by those above them. They do not follow what their rulers say but follow what their rulers do. Therefore, if a ruler esteems martial courage, the state will gradually become troubled even if the ruler never incites strife, and it may eventually suffer plunder and slaughter. If a ruler indulges in beauty, the state will fall into confusion even if the ruler never openly proclaims it, and over time this may breed the calamity of licentiousness and excess.

Therefore, the sage takes inner sincerity as the standard and outwardly displays his likes and dislikes. His words accord with his heart, and his commands express his intent clearly. Punishments are not enough to change customs, and killing is not enough to halt wickedness. Only transformation through virtue is truly precious. Deep sincerity produces a marvelous power of transformation. Wherever this power reaches, it works like the spring Qi (vital energy) that quickens all things and the autumn Qi that brings them to decline.

Thus, the gentleman who governs the realm is like an archer. A deviation of a hair's breadth at the moment of release may become a great distance at the target. Those who govern the people must be cautious about how their own conduct will transform others.

Laozi said: when laws are made and rewards are set up, yet they cannot change the customs and habits of society, it is because the people do not act with sincerity of heart. Therefore, by listening to the music of a place one can understand its prevailing customs; by observing its music and dance one can understand its habits; and by seeing those habits one can know whether moral teaching has taken hold.

Those who hold to truth and keep their word are able to commune with Heaven and Earth, and their shen (spirit) passes beyond the boundaries of the secular world, so that commands are carried out and prohibitions are not violated. Their sincerity accords with the Dao (the Way), and they can convey their intentions even without speaking. Even when they say not a single word, the people of the realm, the birds and beasts, and the guishen (spirits and ghosts) are moved and transformed. Therefore, the highest form of governance transforms all things through the subtle power of De (Virtue). The next is to make people not dare to do wrong. The lowest is to reward the worthy and punish the cruel.

Laozi said: the great Dao (the fundamental natural order) is wu wei (non-action). Wu wei means not clinging to any thing. Without clinging, one is not confined by fixed form or position, and without such confinement, one abides in the formless. What is formless does not stir, and what does not stir has no speech. Without speech, there is stillness and silence. Being still, silent, formless, and without appearance, it cannot be seen or heard. This is called subtle, and it is also called utmost shen (spirit). The Daodejing says, "mianmian ruo cun" (it seems to endure forever), and again, "zhe jiu shi tiandi de genyuan" (this is the root of Heaven and Earth).

The great Dao has no sound, so the sage forces himself to describe its form with language and uses a single name to refer to the principle by which Heaven and Earth operate. Great things take the small as their foundation, and many things begin from few. The Son of Heaven takes Heaven and Earth as his model and treats all things as the resources he governs and nourishes. The Son of Heaven's merit is immense and his station and reputation are extremely honored. These two kinds of excellence should correspond to Heaven and Earth. Therefore, the Son of Heaven cannot but follow the great Dao and make himself the root of the world.

Laozi said: To relieve poverty and aid those in urgent need is to earn reputation and benefit; to remove calamities is to bring one's merit to completion. When the world has no disasters, even a sage has no occasion to display his kindness. When those above and below live in harmony, even a worthy person has no place to establish achievements. Therefore the perfected person (zhiren) governs the world by holding inner Virtue (De) and embracing the Way (Dao). With sincere heart he displays boundless wisdom, dwells at ease in the world, and does not speak much. Because the people of the world do not recognize the worth of not speaking, it is said: "A Dao that can be explained in words is not the constant Dao (Dao); a name that can be fixed by definition is not the constant name." What is written on bamboo and silk, or carved on metal and stone, and passed down to the world, is only the rough outward appearance of the Great Dao. The Three Sovereigns, Five Emperors, and Three Kings (legendary sage-kings of antiquity) acted in different ways, yet their intentions were the same; they took different paths but arrived at the same end. Later scholars did not understand that the Great Dao is one in its essence and that Virtue (De) governs its essential meaning. They grasped only the surface traces of what earlier figures had accomplished and sat idly discussing them. Though they were learned and well-informed, they inevitably brought confusion.

Laozi said: The subtle workings of the mind can produce wondrous transformations in people, yet these cannot be fully explained in words. The sage need not leave his seat to set the world right. His inner feeling surpasses any outcry, so even when he speaks the same words, people believe him, because trust is established before the words are spoken. Even when he issues the same commands, people carry them out, because sincerity lies not in the command itself but beyond it. When the sage occupies a high position, the common people are transformed, and the change is subtle and unfathomable. Transformation begins with feeling. If a ruler acts but those below do not respond, it is because their feelings and his orders do not correspond. A three-month-old infant does not yet understand gain or harm, yet a loving mother cherishes him all the more; this is the working of feeling. Thus the influence of words changes, but the change is slight. The influence that does not depend on words also changes, and its effect is far greater. Trustworthiness (xin) is the standard of a gentleman's speech; loyalty (zhong) is the standard of a gentleman's heart. When loyalty and trustworthiness appear within, they can move the outside world and bring it into response. This is the transforming power of the worthy and the sage.

Laozi said: When a son dies for his father, or a minister dies for his ruler, they do not do so in pursuit of fame. Rather, the bonds of duty and kindness lie deep in their hearts, so even in the face of hardship they do not betray that feeling. Trustworthiness is the standard of a gentleman's speech; loyalty is the standard of a gentleman's heart. When loyalty and trustworthiness appear within, they can move the outside world and bring it into response. This is the transforming power of the worthy and the sage.

Laozi said: When people follow what is natural and do not force their own doings, affairs can be well governed. Deliberate striving brings harm. What is called "governing through wuwei (non-action)" means governing by not acting presumptuously. If one is set on making a great show of doing, one cannot achieve non-action, and without non-action one cannot take action appropriately. When people do not talk much, their essence and spirit (jing and shen) are full. Once they speak rashly, their spirit is harmed. Those who merely keep silent but lack inner spirit will, even in their silence, harm the spirit of those whose hearts are luminous with spirit.

Wenzi said: Reputation may be forcibly established, and achievements may also be forcibly accomplished. In the past, Nanrong Chou regarded the way of the sage as a disgrace and kept himself isolated. Later he went south to visit Laozi, received his instruction, and was able to act. Laozi once said: "When people do not talk much, their spirit is full. Once they speak rashly, their spirit is harmed. Those who merely keep silent but lack inner spirit will, even in their silence, harm the spirit of those whose hearts have luminous spirit."

Wenzi said: Reputation can be built through diligent effort, and achievements can be accomplished through diligent effort. In the past, Nanrong Chou (Nánróng Chóu) felt ashamed that he had not grasped the sagely Way, so he traveled south to see Laozi. Hearing a single teaching, his spirit was suddenly enlightened. Though his circumstances were straitened, he persevered in study and sought to penetrate the principles, fasting for ten days in hardship, yet he felt as though he were enjoying a lavish sacrificial feast. Therefore his wisdom illuminated the world, his name passed down to later generations, his talent and strategy reached across heaven and earth, and he discerned the subtlest aspects of things, so that his praise has not ceased to this day. This is the principle by which reputation can be established through diligent effort.

Thus, if the farmer does not labor, the granary will not be full; if officials and attendants are not diligent, their duties will be difficult to carry out wholeheartedly; if generals and ministers do not exert themselves, their achievements cannot be realized; and if the feudal lords grow slack, they will fall into obscurity in the world.

The Perfected person of the Way (zhìrén), one who has attained a profound level of cultivation, ordinarily keeps himself concealed, like thunder lying hidden within the clouds. He acts in accordance with the timing of the moment, builds achievements by relying on the conditions already at hand, and advances or withdraws with composure, so that nothing is beyond his reach. Within, the Perfected person is sincere and pure; without, his virtue becomes manifest, and his beneficence spreads to the four quarters. When he sees what is beneficial to the world, he rejoices and does not forget it; when he sees what is harmful to the world, he is anxious, as though he had lost something.

"If he worries over the worries of the people, the people will also worry over his worries; if he takes joy in the joys of the people, the people will also take joy in his joys. Therefore, there has never been one who could share the worries and joys of the whole world yet fail to accomplish kingly rule."

The governance of the sage begins without revealing any trace, yet in the end it reaches a state that others find difficult to attain. He stands upon firm ground and accumulates stores that cannot be exhausted and resources that cannot be drained. When he issues commands, they flow smoothly, like water welling up from its source; he lets the people live under a system in which no one needs to compete, and opens the road to success. He does not undertake what cannot be accomplished, does not seek what cannot be obtained, does not place himself in a position that cannot endure, and does not take actions that cannot be reversed.

When a great person puts forth commands that are reasonable and that people can accept, the people will all comply. When commands accord with the human heart, the people will obey, and small matters will gradually grow into great achievements; when commands go against the human heart, then even if they arise from good intentions, they may bring about calamity and turn success into failure.

What is called a great man (dàzhàngfu) is one who is firm within and clear without. Firm within like heaven and earth, clear without like the sun and moon: heaven and earth cover and support all things, and the sun and moon shine upon everything. The great person reveals the good Way to others, holds fast to proper principles, and does not alter the constant laws, so that the people will follow his commands, just as grass bends before the wind.

If the commands of spring are improper, Jupiter (Suìxīng, the wood planet) will wax and wane out of order, and its course will not keep to its constant measure. If the commands of summer are improper, Mars (Yínghuò, the fire planet) will move retrograde. If the commands of autumn are improper, Venus (Tàibái, the metal planet) will move out of its proper measure, appearing and disappearing without fixed timing. If the commands of winter are improper, Mercury (Chénxīng, the water planet) will stray from the position it should occupy. When the commands of all four seasons are improper, Saturn (Zhènxīng, the earth planet) will be agitated, the sun and moon will display anomalies, the five planets will move in confusion, and comets will appear.

If the commands of spring are proper, the seedlings and millet will flourish; if the commands of summer are proper, rain will fall in its due season; if the commands of autumn are proper, the people will be prosperous and thriving; and if the commands of winter are proper, the state will be secure and at peace.

Before Heaven and Earth had taken form, the world was dark and profound, one undivided whole, still and clear. Later, the heavy and turbid part condensed into the earth, and the fine and subtle part rose to become the sky. Heaven and Earth separated, giving rise to the four seasons and the Yin-Yang. The pure Qi (vital energy) of Jing (essence) condensed into human beings, while the coarse, turbid Qi condensed into insects. When the firm and the yielding interacted, the myriad things were born.

The human Shen (spirit) originates in Heaven, and the bones take root in Earth. When the spirit leaves the body and the bones return to the earth, what then remains of me? Therefore the sage models himself on Heaven and conforms to Earth. He is not bound by worldly convention, nor is he led astray by others. He takes Heaven as father and Earth as mother, takes Yin-Yang as his guiding principle, and takes the four seasons as his standard. Heaven is pure and clear, and Earth is steady and tranquil. When the myriad things go against this pattern, they move toward death; when they accord with it, they flourish.

Stillness and quietude are the dwelling place of the luminous Shen (spirit), and emptiness is the abode of the Dao (the Way). Human spirit comes from Heaven, and the bones are received from Earth. The Daodejing says: "The Dao gives birth to One, One gives birth to Two, Two gives birth to Three, and Three gives birth to the myriad things. The myriad things carry Yin on their backs and embrace Yang. Through the blending and harmonizing of the Yin and Yang Qi, the myriad things attain balance and are born."

Laozi (Lǎozǐ) said: Human beings are born by receiving the transformations of Heaven and Earth and of Yin-Yang (yīnyáng). In the first month of pregnancy the fetus begins to gather; in the second month the blood vessels form; in the third month it begins to take shape; in the fourth month the body is formed; in the fifth month the sinews grow; in the sixth month the bones develop; in the seventh month the body is complete in form; in the eighth month it begins to move; in the ninth month its movements increase; and by the tenth month it is born.

Once the body has taken shape, the five organs are also in place. The liver corresponds to the eyes, the kidneys to the ears, the spleen to the tongue, the lungs to the nose, and the gallbladder to the mouth. The outer body is like the surface, and the inner body is like the interior. The head is round, modeled on Heaven, and the feet are square, modeled on Earth. Heaven has the four seasons, the Five Phases (wǔxíng), the nine regions, and three hundred and sixty days; the human being has four limbs, five organs, nine orifices, and three hundred and sixty joints. Heaven has wind, rain, cold, and heat; the human being also has giving and taking, joy and anger. The gallbladder corresponds to clouds, the lungs to qi (qì), the spleen to wind, the kidneys to rain, and the liver to thunder. Human beings resemble Heaven and Earth, yet the heart is the master of the body.

The ears and eyes are like the sun and moon, and the blood and qi are like wind and rain. When the sun and moon move out of order, eclipses occur and their light is harmed; when wind and rain come out of season, they destroy the myriad things and bring calamity; when the five planets move abnormally, disaster strikes many lands. The principles of Heaven and Earth are vast and boundless, yet even they must regulate their brightness and cherish their spirit (shén). How, then, can the human ears and eyes be stimulated by the outside world endlessly without rest? How can the spirit keep running about without growing weary? Therefore the sage guards the spirit within and does not indulge in the pursuit of external things.

Blood and qi are the essence of the human body, and the five organs are where the vital essence (jīng) of the body resides. When the blood and qi concentrate within the body and do not disperse outward, the chest and abdomen become full and desires diminish. With fewer desires, the ears and eyes become clear, hearing and seeing become sharp, and this is called "clarity" (míng). When the five organs return to the heart without scattering, the human will is strengthened and conduct does not go astray; when the spirit is abundant, the qi does not become disordered. In this state nothing is left unheard and nothing unseen, affairs are more likely to succeed, misfortune finds no entry, and sorrowful qi cannot easily assail a person. Thus, when desires are excessive, one obtains less; when one's view reaches too far, one truly understands less.

The bodily orifices are the doors through which the spirit comes and goes, and the blood and qi are responsible for mobilizing the five organs. If the ears and eyes are absorbed in sounds and beautiful sights, the five organs will be agitated and unsettled; if the blood and qi surge without rest, the spirit too will run outward and be unable to hold its position. Even if calamity and fortune draw as near as mountains, one will not perceive them. Therefore the sage cherishes the ears and eyes and does not let them chase external things to excess.

If the sage keeps the ears and eyes clear and unobstructed, unmoved by external temptations and attractions, and keeps the mind and breath still and free of excessive desire, then the five organs will be at peace and the spirit will remain within the body without dispersing. Such a person can perceive the past and the future and the changes of fortune and misfortune. Those who pursue the external the farthest understand the least. This shows that the spirit must not be allowed to wander outward. The five colors confuse the eyes and dim the sight; the five tones pour into the ears and dull the hearing; the five flavors stimulate the mouth and tongue and harm them; and the calculations of grasping and rejecting disturb the heart and make conduct restless and unrestrained. Excessive desire scatters the qi, and attachment and aversion fatigue the spirit. If these are not quickly removed, the will and the original qi (yuánqì) will be depleted day by day.

People cannot enjoy the full span of their natural lifespan because they overly crave longevity and overly indulge their bodies. Only by not treating the "seeking of life" as an obsession can one hope to endure for a long time. Heaven and Earth move in mutual connection, and all things return to oneness. One who understands the One lacks nothing to comprehend; one who does not understand the One truly comprehends nothing.

I dwell within the world, and I am also one of the myriad things; and each of the myriad things is itself a complete thing. Since each thing has its own nature, why should they compare themselves with one another or compete? One need not single-mindedly pursue living, nor flee from death out of disgust for it; one need not look down on things, nor rejoice in them out of over-valuation. To settle one's life in accordance with one's own circumstances, and not to go to extremes, is the greatest joy.

Guarding Emptiness

Laozi said: What is called a sage is one who follows the course of the times and is content with their circumstances, and who, living in the present age, delights in carrying out their own work. Sorrow and joy harm one's De (Virtue), love and aversion become burdens on the heart, and delight and anger lead one away from the Dao (the Way). Therefore, while alive, the sage accords with the movement of Tiandao (the Way of Heaven), and when they die, they change along with all things.

When still, they join with yin qi (yin vital energy); when active, they flow along with yang qi (yang vital energy). The heart is the master of the body, and spirit (shen) is the treasure of the heart. If the body is worn out and never rests, it will decline, and if the spirit is constantly spent, it will be exhausted. For this reason, the sage follows these principles and does not dare to overstep them. They respond to external things with xujing (stillness and emptiness), and necessarily investigate the reasons behind them. They receive substantial things with an empty heart, and necessarily understand their proper measure. They maintain tranquil joy and quiet peace until the end of their lifespan. They do not cling to any one thing, nor do they show partiality in their closeness to others. They nourish their De, cherish a gentle and balanced qi, accord with Heaven, connect with the Dao, and keep De as their companion.

The sage does not actively invite good fortune, nor do they rush ahead to meet misfortune. The transformations of birth and death cannot shake their heart, and so they are called Zhishen (the supreme spirit). When one reaches this spiritual state, one can seek something without depending on external things, and can act without failing to succeed.

Guarding Non-Being

Laozi said: When one does not regard the world as important, the spirit is not burdened. When one regards the myriad things as slight, the heart is not confused. When one regards life and death as equal, the will is not overwhelmed by fear. When one follows the transformations of all things, wisdom is not thrown into disorder.

The perfected person (one who has reached a profound state of attainment) relies on a foundation that cannot be shaken, walks the road of the Dao without obstruction, draws from a source that never runs dry, and learns from a teacher who does not die. Therefore, wherever such a person goes, all goes smoothly, and whatever they encounter, they understand. Even when bending and stretching, rising and lowering, they change with circumstances yet keep hold of the root of life without confusion. Misfortune and fortune, gain and loss, are not enough to disturb their heart.

One who upholds righteousness can be guided by benevolence but cannot be coerced by force. One can be corrected by righteousness but cannot be lured by profit. The gentleman dies for righteousness; he does not stay for wealth and rank, nor is he frightened off by death. How much more so for one who practices Wuwei (non-action, acting in accordance with nature without forcing things). The person of Wuwei has no encumbrances. Without encumbrances, such a person regards the world as an image through which to observe. Examining from above the path the perfected person walks, probing deeply into the original meaning of De (Virtue/Power), and then looking from below at the conduct of the secular world, one finds that its many aspects are enough to make a person ashamed. One who regards the world as a thing of no consequence finds learning it as easy as beating a drum.

Shou Ping (Guarding Equilibrium)

Laozi said: Noble power and abundant profit are what people covet. Regarding these as images through which to observe, examining from above the path the perfected person walks, probing deeply into the original meaning of De, and then looking from below at the conduct of the secular world, one finds that its many aspects are enough to make a person ashamed. One who regards the world as a thing of no consequence finds learning it as easy as beating a drum.

Shou Ping (Guarding Equilibrium)

Laozi said: Power and abundant profit are things people covet, but compared with life itself they are not precious. Therefore the sage eats only enough to stave off hunger and replenish qi (vital energy), and wears only enough to cover the body and ward off the cold. They are content with a life suited to them, do not crave, and do not hoard. Their eyes are still and not drawn to external things, their ears are quiet and not disturbed by outside sounds, they keep their mouth closed and speak little, and their heart harbors no anxious thoughts. They discard cleverness and intelligence, return to the most unadorned original nature, nourish their shen (spirit), clear away preconceptions, and hold no preference for liking or disliking. This is called penetrating understanding. To remove filth and entanglements, it is best never to depart from the root in the first place. If one acts in this way, what could not be accomplished?

Those who know how to nourish life and keep their balance are not bound by profit. Those who understand how to connect inner and outer, so that body and mind are unified, are not seduced by power. A state that transcends all external boundaries is the most vast, and a state with no inner limitation is the most precious. Whoever can recognize this supreme and most precious state will proceed smoothly wherever they go.

Shou Yi (Keeping to Ease)

Laozi said: In ancient times, those who cultivated the Dao (the Way) regulated their emotions and their nature, governed their thoughts, nourished themselves through equanimity, and held themselves to moderation. They took delight in the Dao and so forgot poverty and lowliness; they were content in their De (virtue) and so forgot hardship. When one's nature is unwilling toward something, one does not force oneself to do it; when the heart is not at ease with something, one does not compel it. Whatever does not benefit one's nature is not allowed to harm one's De; whatever is not beneficial to life is not allowed to disturb the peace of body and mind.

They did not indulge the body or act recklessly, but kept to proper measure, and so they could serve as a standard for all under heaven. They ate in accordance with their appetite, dressed according to their form, lived in a dwelling that merely sheltered them, and acted in ways that accorded with reason. They left surplus to the world rather than claiming it for themselves, and in dealing with the myriad things, did not treat them as tools for gain. How could such people lose their nature and life because of wealth or poverty, nobility or lowliness? To remain so always is what can truly be called embodying the Dao.

Shou Qing (Keeping to Purity)

Laozi said: People receive qi from heaven. Ears and eyes meet sounds and colors, nose and mouth meet fragrances and odors, and skin feels cold and warmth. The circumstances are the same for all. Yet some people lose their lives because of this, while others are able to preserve their lives.

Shou Qing (Keeping to Purity)

Laozi said: Human beings receive life from between Heaven and Earth. The ears and eyes perceive sounds and colors, the nose and mouth perceive fragrance and odor, and the skin perceives cold and warmth. These perceptions are not in themselves different. Yet some people lose their lives because of them, while others are able to keep their lives intact; some become gentlemen, while others become petty people. The difference lies in the restraints and guidance they have received.

Jingshen (essence and spirit) is the depth of wisdom. When the spirit is clear, wisdom is bright; wisdom is the seat of the heart-mind, and when wisdom is impartial, the heart-mind is calm. People do not see their reflection in flowing, muddy water, but in water that is clear and still, precisely because the water is clear and quiet. When the spirit is clear and the intention is calm, one can perceive the true condition of things. Therefore, one who is skilled at making use of things must understand how to rely on "non-use," that is, not to intervene recklessly, so that things can fully function.

A bright mirror is not clouded by dust, and a clear spirit is not confused by craving. When the mind's attention is fixed upon one place, the spirit gathers fully there; if the mind then returns to emptiness and stillness, agitation subsides and the breath also gathers in. This is how the sage observes and apprehends the true condition of things. Therefore, to govern the world, one must thoroughly understand the nature of human beings and the actual reality of life.

Guarding the Authentic (Shouzhen)

Laozi said: What is called a sage is nothing more than one who accords with his original nature and is content with moderate needs. He eats according to the measure of his stomach and dresses according to his body. In all things he exercises restraint, and so greedy and defiled thoughts have no way to arise. Therefore, those who are able to possess the world do not regard it as their private property, and those who obtain renown do not seek it through conduct that exceeds the constant Way. Truly understanding the nature of human beings and the actual reality of life, benevolence and righteousness will naturally follow.

If the spirit is not obscured and the heart carries no burden, if one is open, expansive, and calm without concern, then power and profit cannot tempt him, sounds and sights cannot bewilder him, eloquent debaters cannot persuade him, the clever cannot shake him, and the brave cannot frighten him. This is the state of life of the "authentic person" (zhenren), one whose cultivation has reached a state of purity.

One who causes life to continue without end does not himself cling to "living," and one who drives the transformations of the myriad things is not himself bound by change. If one does not understand this principle, then even if he knows the governing order of Heaven and Earth, sees through the movements of sun and moon, can untangle problems as intricate as interlocked rings, and has words sufficient to polish metal and stone, he still will be of no benefit to the world. Therefore, the sage always holds fast to his root.

Guarding Stillness

Laozi said: Stillness and detachment, ease and tranquility, are the means by which one nourishes life. A mind that is calm, content, empty, and unforced is the foundation on which De (Virtue/Power) rests. Even someone skilled at speech, whose arguments are tightly interlocked and whose words ring as refined and resonant as metal and stone, may still not benefit the world. Therefore the sage never loses hold of the root they keep.

Guarding Stillness

Laozi said: Stillness and detachment, ease and tranquility, can nourish life. A calm, joyful mind that is empty, still, and unforced can settle one's De. When the outside world does not disturb the inner heart, one's natural endowment finds its proper place. When the inner heart is quiet and not agitated, and the breath is level, one's De can dwell securely in its place. To govern worldly affairs with the methods of nourishing life, and to pass one's whole life embracing De, may be called understanding how to embody the Dao (the Way).

Such a person's blood does not stagnate, and the five viscera (the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys, as described in Chinese medicine) do not accumulate stagnant qi. Fortune and misfortune cannot unsettle their mind, and praise and slander cannot stain their state of mind. Were they not living in such an age, who could manage it? If someone with talent does not meet a suitable moment, they still cannot extricate themselves from hardship, much less someone who lacks the arts of the Dao.

If the eyes focus on the tip of an autumn down hair, they cannot hear the crash of thunder. If the ears attend to the sound of jade and gold, the eyes cannot see the shape of Mount Tai. Therefore, when the mind concentrates on minute things, it easily overlooks greater ones.

Now the myriad things keep arriving before the eyes, pulling at and consuming life, draining away essence (jing), like a spring welling up without end. Even if one wishes not to be affected, can one manage it? Water in a basin, if left still for a day, becomes clear enough to reveal one's eyebrows and eyelashes. If it is turbid, even a slight stirring makes it impossible to see its outline. The human spirit (shen) is hard to clarify and easily clouded, just like the water in a basin.

Keeping to the Method

Laozi said: The highest sage models themselves on the Dao of Heaven. The next rank honors the worthy, and the one below that relies on subordinates. Relying on subordinates is the road to ruin, and honoring the worthy easily becomes the root of delusion. Modeling oneself on the Dao of Heaven is the principle by which heaven and earth are governed.

To be empty and still is to be fit to rule as a king. To be empty and without grasping is to be able to contain the myriad things. To keep the mind settled in stillness is to be able to hold the myriad things together. Understanding emptiness and stillness allows one to penetrate the beginning and end of all things. Therefore the sage governs through stillness and brings disorder through reckless action. Thus it is said: do not disturb or entangle the myriad things, and they will clear themselves; do not startle or alarm them, and they will order themselves. This is the Dao of Heaven.

Laozi said: The Son of Heaven and the dukes and marquises regard the whole realm, or a single state, as their household, and regard the myriad things as their property. When the mind holds the vastness of the world and possesses the abundance of all things, it easily becomes swollen with force and proud in its aims. A powerful state marches its armies against a weaker one, and even a weak state may arrogantly bully those beneath it. To set the mind on such extravagance and ostentation is like a fierce whirlwind or a violent downpour: it cannot last.

Therefore the sage uses the Dao (the Way) to bring order to the world. He holds to singleness and follows what is natural, and does not harm the primordial Qi (vital energy) that keeps the inner self at peace. He looks to what is subtle at its beginning, guards softness, yields, and does not take possession. He emulates the rivers and seas: because they do not act with deliberate contrivance, their achievements and fame arise on their own, and because they do not force things, they can endure. The sage uses the Dao to bring order to the world. He holds to singleness and follows what is natural, and does not harm the primordial Qi. He looks to what is subtle, guards softness, yields, and does not make things his own. He emulates the rivers and seas, does not act with deliberate contrivance, and so his achievements and fame are accomplished on their own. He does not force things, and therefore he is able to accomplish the enterprise of a true king. The sage dwells willingly in the place of yielding and receptivity, and therefore he is able to keep his spirit (Shen) enduring. He knows how to cherish his own body, and therefore he attains honor. To occupy the weighty position that governs a state of ten thousand chariots, one must take the accomplishment of the myriad things as one's achievement and fame. The responsibility is very great and must not be taken lightly; if one acts carelessly, achievement and fame will be hard to attain.

The Dao is the root by which the great is accomplished from the small, and the many from the few. Therefore the sage uses the Dao to guide the world. Softness, subtlety, and refinement are directed toward what is small; frugality, restraint, and the capacity to diminish are directed toward what is not abundant. To value the small is how one achieves greatness; to value what is not abundant is how one achieves goodness and beauty.

The Heavenly Dao suppresses what is high and supports what is low, removing what is in excess and supplying what is lacking. Rivers and seas lie in low places, and so all under Heaven turn toward them and gather in them. The sage is humble, quiet, and deferential; to dwell willingly in a lowly position is his way, and to be empty-hearted and never self-satisfied is to regard oneself as lacking. Only by dwelling willingly in a lower position can one reach a higher one, and only by regarding oneself as lacking can one perfect one's virtue (De).

Those who boast of themselves cannot stand firm; those who are extravagant cannot endure; those who are domineering invite calamity; those who overflow are brought to ruin. A whirlwind does not last the whole day, and a narrow valley cannot be filled in a moment. The whirlwind and the violent downpour carry a domineering and fierce momentum, and so they cannot persist and in the end dissipate; the narrow valley, placed in a position of strength, inevitably suffers being plundered. Therefore the sage holds to the stance of femininity and humility, sets aside extravagance and pride, and does not dare to act with domineering force. By holding to femininity he in fact attains strength; by not daring to be extravagant and proud he is able to endure.

Laozi said: The regularity of the Dao of Heaven (Tiandao) is that when things reach their extreme they turn back, and when they are full they begin to diminish. The movements of the sun and moon follow exactly this pattern.

The sage (shengren) releases selfish desires each day, keeping the heart empty, still, and open, and does not dare to be self-satisfied. Through yielding and humble conduct, the sage makes steady progress, so the merit and De (Virtue) do not decline. This is the regularity of the Dao of Heaven. Human nature generally favors what is high and dislikes what is low, desires gain and dreads loss, seeks profit and shuns hardship, prizes honor and despises lowliness, and longs for wealth while rejecting poverty. When people act on these desires, they often fail to accomplish anything, and when they cling to them without letting go, they cannot truly attain what they seek.

For this reason, the sage follows the Dao of Heaven. The sage acts without forcing and yet accomplishes things, and does not grasp at possession yet gains what is needed. The sage shares the same feelings as others but walks a different path, and for this reason is able to endure.

It is said that the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors had a vessel to remind themselves of their limits, called the Youzhi, a wine cup that warns people against overfilling. When the vessel holds little water, its body stands upright; if one insists on filling it to the brim, it tips over. Things that flourish to their utmost begin to decline, the sun begins to move westward at midday, the moon wanes once it becomes full, and joy turns to sorrow when it ends.

Therefore, one who is wise and broadly knowledgeable should guard himself through simplicity and plainness. One whose learning is rich and who excels in debate should guard himself through brevity. One who possesses martial strength and courage and resolute firmness should guard himself through reverence. One who is noble, prominent, and powerful should guard himself through humility. One whose kindness reaches all under Heaven should guard himself through modesty. These five practices are the methods by which the early kings protected the world.

One who follows this Dao does not seek to be full. Precisely because one does not seek fullness, one is able to avoid decline and continually attain new accomplishments.

Laozi said: The sage is able to follow the transformations of Yin and Yang, keeping the mind at ease and yielding, while remaining open to receive the Yang energies and things of the outside world. When a person reaches the state of not being governed by joy, nothing can fail to bring them contentment; to be joyful in everything is to attain the greatest joy.

Therefore, the sage meets external things with inner contentment and does not allow the joys of outside objects to sway the heart, and so is able to find delight in himself. He regards his aspirations as more important than the power and status of the world, because only in this way can he grasp the key to all things. The key lies not in others but in oneself, not in the external world but in the self. When the self is accomplished, the principles of all things are complete.

One who understands the Way of the heart-mind (xinshu) regards tastes, desires, likes, and dislikes as things external to the self, and therefore does not rejoice, grow angry, feel pleasure, or suffer sorrow on account of external things. He sees all things returning to a profound and undifferentiated sameness, without absolute distinctions of right and wrong. A scholar may hold firmly to a particular principle, and a woman may maintain an unchanging integrity; without relying on power they are still respected, without relying on wealth they still feel abundant, and without relying on brute force they remain strong. They do not covet goods or worldly fame, do not feel secure because of high rank, and do not feel endangered because of low rank, and they cause the body, spirit, breath, and will each to remain in its proper place.

The body is the dwelling place where life lodges; qi is the root of life; shen is the master that governs life. If any one of these three loses its proper position, the other two will also be harmed. Therefore, when shen is taken as the master, the body receives benefit; if the bodily desires are allowed to govern oneself, the spirit will be injured.

Those who crave without limit and have too many desires are the most easily drawn along by power and profit, and envy fame and status. They wish, through cleverness, to surpass others and to occupy high position, and so their spirit is gradually depleted. If one remains immersed in this for a long time and cannot turn back, the mind-spirit (xinshen) becomes obstructed, and the outside world can hardly enter the heart; thus there are often the confusions of blindness, forgetfulness, and loss of self.

When the spirit, will, and breath are at rest, they grow fuller and stronger day by day; when they are agitated, they wear down and age day by day. For this reason, the sage holds fast to and nourishes the spirit, keeps the breath calm and gentle, keeps the body steady and at ease, and follows the rising and falling transformations of the Great Dao. In this way, the changes of the ten thousand things can all accord with him, and the movements of all affairs can each receive a response.

Laozi said: What is called a "true person" (Zhenren) is one whose nature is in accord with the Dao. Thus, they seem to possess things yet appear to have nothing; their inner being is full, yet they do not display it. They cultivate only what is within and do not deliberately adorn what is without. They understand the most original simplicity of Heaven and Earth, returning to primal plainness through wuwei (non-action), attending to the root, preserving their spirit (shen), and roaming at the source of Heaven and Earth.

They are absorbed and at ease, as though far from worldly clamor, wandering freely in a state of doing nothing. Cleverness and scheming do not remain in their hearts; they are able to discern illusion and are not swayed by external things. Seeing things change, they still hold fast to the root; their attention is concentrated within, and they regard misfortune and fortune as one and the same process. When at rest, they do not cling to what they are doing; when acting, they do not cling to where they are going. They know without learning, perceive without looking, accomplish without deliberate effort, and bring affairs to clarity without forceful governance.

They respond when stirred and act when moved, but their action does not arise from willful intent; they go forth only when unavoidable. Their functioning is like light illuminating the myriad things, or a shadow that follows its form. They proceed in accordance with the Dao and manifest in response to conditions. Their minds are open, empty, and still, clear and free of attachment. They regard the thousand transformations as a single change and the myriad differences as a single origin.

Though they have jing (essence) and qi (vital energy), they do not squander them; though they have shen (spirit), they do not display it. They guard their natural simplicity in its undivided wholeness and dwell in a realm of utmost subtlety. They do not dream when they sleep, and their minds give rise to no deluded thoughts. Their actions leave no fixed traces, and in stillness they are not attached to the body. They seem to exist yet seem not to, and they live yet seem ungenerated. Their comings and goings are unobstructed, and the power of their spirit can even reach the most hidden recesses.

As long as their spirit flows freely without losing its origin, they can respond to the myriad things day and night, causing all of them to flourish as in spring. This is the mind's union with the Dao, by which they grasp the vitality and timing of the seasons. The body decays, yet the spirit need not change with it. By responding to change with an unchanging root, they pass through a thousand turns without exhaustion. Changing things ultimately return to formlessness, while the unchanging root endures together with Heaven and Earth. The root that endures with Heaven and Earth has never been altered by change, yet the myriad things it manifests each undergo change. This is the realm in which the Zhenren wanders in the pure and simple Dao.

Laozi said: The Dao (the Way) is so lofty that nothing lies above it, and so deep that nothing lies beneath it. It is level as a plumb line, straight as an ink line, round as a compass, and square as a carpenter's square. It embraces Heaven and Earth without any division between inside and outside, pervading everything and present everywhere. Therefore, those who have realized the Dao are not angered or pleased by external things. When they sit in stillness, their minds hold no worries, and when they sleep, they do not dream. When they see things, they can discern their names, and when affairs arrive, they respond appropriately.

Laozi said: Those who seek fame are sure to invite trouble. Once trouble arises, they abandon public spirit for private gain, turn away from the Dao, and act on whim. To win praise, they feign goodness, and to establish a reputation for worth, they deliberately display themselves. In this way, governance departs from what is normal, and conduct falls out of step with the times. When governance is unorthodox, many reproaches follow, and when conduct is out of step with the times, success is hard to achieve. Those who try to gain through cunning may succeed in the matter, but the success will not be enough to offset the reproaches. Once they fail, they may even bring about their own death.

Laozi said: Do not become the master of fame, the center of schemes, or the one who bears the weight of affairs or claims to govern wisdom. Conceal yourself within the formless and keep acting without rest. Do not rush ahead of good fortune, nor become the origin of calamity. Affairs begin in the formless, and one acts only when action cannot be avoided. Those who wish to obtain good fortune first must avoid inviting misfortune, and those who wish to gain benefit must first stay far from harm.

Therefore, those who find peace through Wuwei (non-action), once they lose the root of their tranquility, fall into danger, and those who govern through Wuwei, once they lose the root of their governance, fall into chaos. Hence Laozi said: "Do not seek the dazzle of jade, nor the lofty isolation of stone." Pelts with beautiful patterns are often stripped, and animals with fine horns are often hunted. Sweet springs are the first to run dry, and straight trees are the first to be cut down. Florid words may later bring fault, jade hidden in stone will injure the mountain, and the calamities of the common people often begin with words that stir up disputes.

Laozi said: When the moment comes, action should follow the flow of circumstance. Those who do not understand the Dao may find their fortune turned into misfortune. Heaven is like the canopy of a carriage, and Earth is like its floorboard. One who skillfully uses the Dao will never exhaust its uses and will suffer no harm. When the Five Phases (Wuxing) are set out, there are necessarily relations of mutual overcoming, and everything covered by Heaven has its own corresponding principle. Therefore Laozi said: "To know that one does not know is superior; not to know and yet believe one knows is a flaw."

Laozi said: Gold is born within mountains and jade within stones, yet the mountains and stones are for that very reason mined and worn away. Trees breed insects, and the insects turn back and gnaw at the trees. When people stir up trouble, it rebounds to harm them. Those who delight in provoking conflict often assume they are sure to prevail, yet beneath the heaven that covers all things, each thing has its own corresponding principle. Therefore it is said: "To know that one does not know is superior; to not know and yet believe one knows is a flaw."

Laozi said: Gold is born within mountains and jade within stones, yet the mountains and stones are for that very reason mined and worn away. Trees breed insects, and the insects turn back and gnaw at the trees. When people stir up trouble, it rebounds to harm them. Those who delight in provoking conflict often come to grief, and those who contend for profit often fall into difficulty. Swimmers may drown, and horsemen may fall, for each may suffer harm from their own fondness. The key to gaining benefit lies in seizing the right moment rather than in competing, and the key to good governance lies in following the Dao (the Way) rather than in displaying one's own sagacity. Earth occupies the low ground and does not compete for height, so it is stable and free from danger. Water flows downward and does not compete for speed, so it can travel far without stagnating. For this reason, the sage does not cling to things and so suffers no loss, and does not act recklessly and so suffers no failure.

Laozi said: A single sentence can express principles without end; two sentences can become the standard that all under heaven honor together; three sentences can enable the feudal lords to become hegemons; four sentences can allow the realm to stand unrivaled. Holding fast to the correct Way and valuing sincerity makes principles inexhaustible. Following De (Virtue) makes one the ideal for all under heaven. Recommending worthy and virtuous people enables the feudal lords to become hegemons. Loathing wickedness and cherishing the multitude enables one to stand unrivaled in the realm.

Laozi said: There are three ways of dying that are not decreed by fate but brought upon oneself. Whoever eats without restraint and disregards the care of the body will have illness take their life. Whoever indulges in pleasure without limit and never tires of desire will have punishment bring about a deadly calamity. Whoever uses the few to oppose the many, or the weak to bully the strong, will have war bring death.

Laozi said: The more generously one gives, the better the return one receives; the deeper the resentment one plants, the heavier the disaster one invites. To give little yet expect abundant returns, or to accumulate resentment yet believe no calamity will follow, has never once come to pass. By observing past conduct, one can know what results will come.

Laozi said: To investigate the Mandate of Heaven (tianming), to govern the mind's techniques (xinshu), to regulate one's likes and dislikes, and to accord with one's natural dispositions (qingxing) is how the governance of the Dao (the Way) becomes unobstructed. To investigate the Mandate of Heaven means not being confused by misfortune or good fortune. To govern the mind's techniques means not letting joy and anger stir recklessly. To regulate likes and dislikes means not craving what is useless. To accord with one's dispositions means that one's desires do not exceed their proper bounds.

Not being confused by misfortune or good fortune allows one to accord with the principles of things in action or in stillness. Not letting joy and anger stir recklessly ensures that rewards and punishments are not partial. Not craving what is useless prevents desire from harming one's original nature. When desires do not exceed their bounds, one can nourish life and know contentment. These four matters need not be sought outside oneself or depend on others. They are attained by reflecting on oneself.

Laozi said: Do not do what may invite criticism, and do not resent others for blaming you. Cultivate the De (Virtue) that is worthy of praise, and do not demand that life be satisfying in every respect. These four matters need not be sought outside oneself or depend on others. They are attained by reflecting on oneself.

Laozi said: Do not do what may invite criticism, and do not resent others for blaming you. Cultivate the De (Virtue) that is worthy of praise, and do not seek others' praise. One cannot ensure that calamity never arrives, so one must acknowledge the limits of one's wisdom. Nor can one ensure that good fortune will surely come, so one must understand that one cannot claim everything as one's own. When calamity arrives, it is not of one's own making, so one does not grieve in adversity. When good fortune comes, it is not wholly one's own creation, so one does not boast when circumstances are favorable. Thus, when at leisure the mind remains joyful, and even without acting rashly, one can govern all things well.

Laozi said: The Dao is to hold fast to what one already has and not to pursue what one does not yet possess. Pursuing what has not yet been obtained may cause the loss of what one already has. Cultivating what one already has allows what one hopes for to arrive. When governance is not yet stable enough to be free from disorder, yet one hastens to bring affairs to completion, one is certain to meet danger. When conduct is not yet free from error, yet one hastens to seek fame, one is certain to be frustrated. Therefore, the greatest blessing lies in having no calamity, and the greatest benefit lies in losing nothing. Hence it is said: "……"

Some things seem to bring gain yet end up causing harm, while others seem to bring loss yet end up bringing benefit. Cultivating the Dao (the Way) cannot rely on persuasion to pursue immediate advantage, but it can settle the mind and keep one clear of calamity. Thus one often avoids misfortune without deliberately seeking blessings, and often avoids error without deliberately seeking merit. The Dao is vast and profound; it follows the awesome power of Heaven and moves in accord with Heaven's Qi (vital energy).

Those who cultivate the Dao do not overthink, nor do they store up provisions or make arrangements in advance. When things arrive, they do not go out of their way to meet them, and when things pass, they do not try to hold on. Wherever they are, they can independently preserve the centered uprightness of their hearts. Therefore, even amid many crooked and corrupt people, they do not lose their integrity, and while they move and change together with everyone under Heaven, they never stray beyond the bounds of the Dao. They do not deliberately display goodness, nor do they avoid being seen as doing what is considered ugly. Following the Dao of Heaven, they do not take the lead in initiating action, nor do they cling obstinately to their own views. According with heavenly principle, they do not plan in advance, yet they do not miss the right moment. In responding to the Dao, they do not force themselves to obtain things, nor do they refuse the blessings that come to them.

In this way, the heart does not seek extraordinary rewards, and the outer world holds no special calamities to fear. With neither fortune nor misfortune given any ground to arise, how could anything harmful to people ever occur? Those whose De (virtue) has reached a profound height speak as though they had sworn an agreement, and whatever they do brings benefit. High and low share one mind, and they do not take crooked side paths. They cast aside what is twisted and open up the upright way, and the common people will follow it and advance in the right direction.

Laozi said: when you see someone doing good, encourage them; when you see someone doing what is not good, observe and comment on it. Encouragement easily makes people feel reproached, and criticism easily makes them anxious and fearful. Therefore, in seeking the Dao (Way), one should not rush forward in pursuit of reputation, but should step back and cultivate oneself.

The sage does not seek accomplishment through action, nor praise through displays of insight. In governing, he follows what is natural and does not impose his own will upon it. Deliberate effort may still fail, and striving for something may still bring nothing. If a person is in difficulty, their pursuit of the Dao may also be blocked. One who is clever yet practices wuwei (non-action) achieves the same result as one who does not rely on cleverness. One who is capable yet does not act rashly has the same virtue as one who has not shown his ability. Wisdom seems to have no wisdom, and ability seems to have no ability. Once the principle is thoroughly understood, the mind that deliberately displays talent fades away.

People and the Dao cannot be made manifest at the same time. If a person clings to fame, they will abandon the Dao. When the Dao overcomes private selfishness, the pursuit of fame comes to an end. If the Dao recedes while fame grows greatly, one moves toward danger and ruin.

Laozi said: having an honest person divide property is not as good as first fixing a method of distribution and then deciding by lot. Why? Because one who deliberately tries to be fair is often less fair than one who has no private interest. Having an incorruptible person guard property is not as good as bolting the doors and sealing the goods. Someone who has desires, even if incorruptible, is not as reliable as someone who has none. When others point out our faults, we resent it, but when we see our own blemishes in a mirror, we can accept them gladly. If a person comes into contact with external things without claiming them as their own, they can avoid being entangled by them.

Laozi said: those who wish to command others do so either with treasures and wealth or with humble words. When little is given, people's desires are hard to satisfy. Even if one lowers oneself and says all the right things, one may still fail to form a true bond. Even when agreements are made and oaths sworn, one may go back on them before the appointed time arrives. Therefore, the junzi (exemplary person) does not adorn benevolence and righteousness on the outside, but cultivates the arts of the Dao within.

The junzi governs the affairs of his own domain so that the locality is stable and the common people are willing to exert themselves in defending the state. He fortifies the city walls and unites those above and below, so that all together guard the altars of the state. In this way, those who are fond of ornament will not boast of their freedom from fault, and those who are greedy for profit will not seek what is hard to obtain. This is the way to preserve oneself, and it is the principle that brings benefit.

Laozi said: The sage is not led about by his own heart, but ordinary people often fail to restrain their desires. The gentleman (junzi) cultivates righteous Qi (vital energy), while the petty person cultivates perverse Qi. When the heart accords with one's original nature and one's conduct accords with the Dao (the Way) and with rightness, acting in line with the principles of things and unswayed by external objects, this is righteous Qi. Chasing after the flavors of food and drink, indulging in sounds and beautiful sights, and letting joy and anger flare without regard for consequences, this is perverse Qi.

Perverse Qi and righteous Qi conflict with one another, and desire and original nature obstruct one another, so the two cannot both prevail: when one rises, the other declines. Therefore the sage sets aside excessive desire and follows his original nature. The eyes delight in beautiful forms, the ears in pleasing sounds, the nose in fragrance, and the mouth and tongue in delicious tastes. Once these sensory preferences gather in the heart and cause a person to become so absorbed that he cannot see gain and harm, they become perverse Qi. Perverse Qi conflicts with righteous Qi, and desire obstructs original nature; the two cannot be reconciled, and when one rises the other declines. This is why the sage sets desire aside and follows his original nature. The eyes, ears, nose, and mouth each have their own inclinations, and when these combine to make a person absorbed in gain and loss, this is what is called craving desire. The ears, eyes, nose, and mouth do not know on their own what they want; each is governed by the heart. If the heart can let each one attain its proper place, then it becomes clear how difficult desire is to restrain.

Laozi said: One who nourishes the body and cultivates the original nature regulates sleep and daily routine, keeps his diet moderate, balances joy and anger, and ensures that both activity and stillness are fitting. When inner cultivation is complete, perverse Qi has no opening through which to enter. Those who attend only to outward adornment harm their inner being; those who indulge their emotions injure their spirit (shen); and those who value only external refinement obscure their true nature. If one constantly worries about appearing worthy, this in fact damages one's nature; even a person who walks a hundred paces while fretting over his appearance will inevitably tire his body. Thus, when feathers grow too beautiful, they injure the bones, and when branches and leaves grow too luxuriant, they hinder the roots. Under heaven, there is nothing that can be increased without limit, both inwardly and outwardly, without harm.

Laozi said: Heaven shines with light, yet it does not worry that the common people live in darkness. The earth holds its stores of wealth, yet it does not worry that the people are poor. One whose De (Virtue) is deep stands tall and steady like a hill, not easily moved, and those who travel the road take him as their standard. He rectifies himself so that all things are made sufficient, yet he does not bestow favors on others. Those who receive his help do not feel they bear his kindness, and so he is able to remain at ease for a long time.

Heaven and earth do not compete with the myriad things, so nothing can be taken from them. They do not claim to possess De, and so they draw no resentment. Those who are quick to anger surely draw many grudges, and those who are eager to give often turn easily to taking away. Only by following the regular course of heaven and earth can one accord with the principles of things. Therefore, when fame becomes apparent, slander follows it; when a good name becomes apparent, malice arises alongside it. Profit may become the beginning of calamity, and good fortune may be the omen of disaster. One who does not deliberately pursue gain will not thereby invite harm, and one who does not deliberately pursue fortune will not thereby invite misfortune. Preserving the self is the constant Dao (the Way), while wealth and rank are things entrusted to what lies outside the body.

Laozi said: The sage does not wear strange and peculiar garments, nor does he act in bizarre and aberrant ways. His dress is unmixed, and his conduct does not deliberately draw attention. He is penetrating without ostentation, and in straitened circumstances he is not fearful. When honored he does not boast, and when withdrawn from office he does not feel shame. Though he is set apart from others, he can dwell and share with them, and he is hard to sum up under a single name. This is called Datong (penetrating without obstruction).

Laozi said: One who cultivates the Dao (Dao) should keep their person upright, guard their own self, and wait for the arrangement of fortune. When the moment arrives, one should not deliberately go out to meet it. When the moment departs, one should not force oneself to hold it back. Therefore the sage does not hurry forward in pursuit, nor does he retreat or shun, but simply follows the currents of the times. If the moment leaves him, he lets it leave. Even if the moment falls behind him, he does not hurry to chase after it. He neither forces it to depart nor seeks to attach himself to it, but keeps to his own place. The Way of Heaven shows no partiality toward anyone; it only aids those who possess De (De). When fortune arrives, it is not something one obtained through deliberate striving, so one does not boast of one's merit. When calamity descends, one does not think it was wholly caused by oneself, so one does not regret one's conduct. The heart remains quiet and at peace, and does not allow external things to harm one's De. Even when dogs bark, one is not startled, because one trusts one's original mind. So long as one does not covet what lies beyond one's due, the one who understands the Dao will not be confused, and the one who understands fate will not be anxious.

When a sovereign dies, his remains are buried in the wild, yet people still sacrifice to him at the Mingtang (the hall where ancient rites of sacrifice and court audiences were held), because spirit (shen) is more precious than the physical form. Spirit can govern the form, and the form then follows. If bodily desires overpower spirit, a person falls into distress. Even when one makes use of intelligence and talent, one must return to the source of spirit. This is called "Great Penetration" (datong), the state of penetrating the Great Dao.

Laozi said: In antiquity, those who were able to preserve their nature took delight in cultivating De and did not dwell on their lowly station, so fame and rank could not shake their aspirations. They took delight in apprehending the Great Dao and did not dwell on poverty, so gain and loss could not disturb their hearts. Thus, though they were humble, they found contentment in themselves, and with a tranquil heart they were calm and at ease in their detachment.

If one spends a finite life worrying over the chaos of the world, it is like fearing that a river will run dry and trying to make it rise by weeping: futile and without benefit. Therefore, only one who does not worry over the disorder of the realm, but seeks only the stability of oneself and good governance, may be spoken with about the Dao.

Laozi said: People often incur three kinds of resentment. A high rank invites envy from others, a great office invites dislike from the ruler, and a generous stipend invites resentment from others. To dispel these resentments, the higher one's rank, the more humble one's bearing; the greater one's office, the more cautious one's heart; the more one's stipend, the wider one's giving. When these three are practiced, resentment will not arise. Therefore, nobility must take humility as its root, and elevation must take lowliness as its foundation.

Laozi said: speaking is for conveying one's meaning to others, and listening is for understanding the meaning of others. If one cannot understand what one hears, communication between people becomes impossible. Therefore, a person with an obstacle in hearing may not know how affairs ought to be communicated. Are there only defects of the body, such as deafness and dim sight? The mind can have such obstacles too: when it is closed and does not know how to grasp the principles of the Dao (the Way), it is just like deafness and blindness.

The Dao is the root of the myriad things, and every thing with form arises from the Dao. The Dao is intimate with the myriad things, like the close bond between kin. Living beings that eat the five grains and draw in the Qi (vital energy) of Heaven and Earth all endure through the Dao, so the Dao is like a ruler whose favor reaches all beings. The wise learn from the Dao, so the Dao is also like a teacher who enlightens people. People often neglect what is beneficial by chasing what is useless, and so their knowledge is narrow and their time always seems insufficient. If the time spent on chess and games were instead devoted to inquiring into the Dao and studying, what one hears and sees would become far more profound. The difference between inquiring into the Dao and not doing so is like the difference between the clear-sighted and the deaf and blind.

Laozi said: the human heart submits to De (Virtue/Power), but it does not truly submit to brute force. Whether one possesses De determines whether others are willing to turn to them. Therefore, if a sage wishes to be honored above others, they first make themselves worthy of respect. If they wish to be revered, they first respect others. If they wish to surpass others, they first overcome themselves. If they wish to make others humble, they first humble themselves. Thus, the principles of noble and base, honored and lowly, must be grasped by following the Dao.

The sage-kings of antiquity spoke with humility and treated others with respect, placing themselves behind others. Therefore, all under Heaven delighted in raising them up without tiring, and supporting them did not feel burdensome. This was because their De was deep and abundant, and their breath was calm and smooth. Thus, one who knows to give first will in turn gain, and one who is willing to stand behind will in turn stand ahead. This comes close to the Dao.

Laozi said: When one's virtue (De, dé) is not lofty yet one receives excessive favor, one is apt to draw ridicule. When one's talent is insufficient yet one occupies a high position, there is danger. When one has no great merit yet enjoys generous emoluments, one's standing will also be hard to keep secure. Thus some things that appear to add benefit end up causing harm, while some things that appear to diminish end up bringing gain. The masses know only to chase profit and do not know that excessive profit also becomes calamity. Only the sage understands that profit can at times turn into disaster. When a tree bears too much fruit at once, its roots are sure to suffer. Whoever unearths the wealth hidden in their home will later meet with misfortune. When gain is excessive, it turns into harm. This is the natural law of things.

Laozi said: The petty person, in acting, considers only whether they can obtain some advantage. The noble person, in acting, considers whether an action accords with righteousness. One who does good does not do so to seek a reputation, yet reputation follows them. They do not deliberately pursue gain, yet gain comes to rest with them. The petty person and the noble person seek the same things, yet the states they finally reach are different. Therefore, if an action brings benefit, harm may follow with it. One whose words never accord with correct principle and whose deeds are never timely is a petty person. One who understands a single matter thoroughly and masters a single skill is an ordinary person. One who can attend to every aspect, possesses many abilities, and uses them well is a sage.

Laozi said: Life is something one temporarily borrows; death is the final destination. Therefore, when the world is at peace, one should guard oneself through righteousness. When the world is in disorder, one should guard righteousness through oneself. The day of death is the end point of a person's conduct throughout life, so the noble person must be cautious in all their undertakings. Life is bestowed by Heaven, while the length of one's life depends on the times one encounters.

Laozi said: Life is something one temporarily borrows; death is the final destination. Therefore, when the world is at peace, one should guard oneself through righteousness. When the world is in disorder, one should guard righteousness through oneself. The day of death is the end point of a person's conduct throughout life, so the noble person must be cautious in all their undertakings. Life is bestowed by Heaven, and the length of one's life depends on the age in which one lives. If a person has talent but does not encounter a suitable age, this is the will of Heaven. When seeking advancement, there are methods that accord with righteousness, but whether one attains success depends on fate. The noble person may do good yet cannot be certain of receiving blessings; refusing to do evil does not necessarily spare them from calamity. Therefore, when the noble person meets a suitable moment, they advance, and succeeding through righteousness, what luck is there in that? When the moment is unsuitable, they withdraw, yielding in accordance with ritual propriety, and what misfortune is there in that? Thus, even when living in poverty and lowliness, they feel no regret, because they have already obtained what they truly value.

Laozi said: Within the human heart there are two kinds of Qi (vital energy): the smooth and the rebellious. When the heart is settled, the Qi flows smoothly; when the heart is in turmoil, the Qi runs contrary. Whether the heart is settled or turbulent depends on whether one follows Virtue (De): when one attains the Way (Dao), the heart is settled, and when one loses the Way, the heart is in turmoil. When the heart is settled, people yield to one another; when it is in turmoil, people fight one another. Yielding allows Virtue to accumulate, while fighting gives rise to conduct that harms others. Accumulated Virtue makes the Qi smooth, and conduct that harms others makes it rebellious. Those whose Qi is smooth are willing to bear losses themselves in order to help others, while those whose Qi is rebellious harm others to satisfy themselves. These two kinds of Qi can be regulated and controlled by following the Dao.

The Way of Heaven responds like an echo answering a sound: when Virtue accumulates, good fortune arises; when calamities accumulate, resentment arises. Official posts are easily ruined when one's official fortune is at its height, filial piety declines through indulgence in wife and children, worries may arise just when one believes they have been dispelled, and an illness may worsen just as one is about to recover. Therefore it is said: "Treat the end of an affair with the same caution as the beginning, and you will not ruin it."

Laozi said: If one promotes the unupright and suppresses the upright, how can one avoid bringing trouble? If one promotes the upright and suppresses the unupright, one should not let the latter, once in power, continue to act lawlessly. This is what is meant by: among those who dwell in the same filth, some sink deep while others do not sink in at all.

Laozi said: The sage regards life and death without letting them alter his original heart. The foolish also undergo life and death, but they do not understand how to harmonize benefit and harm. The Dao hangs high above in heaven, and the myriad things spread out on the earth, and the key to harmonizing the myriad things lies with people. If the ruler cannot harmonize governance, the yang Qi of heaven will not descend and the yin Qi of earth will not ascend. Yin and Yang fall out of balance, wind and rain come out of season, and the common people fall ill and go hungry.

Laozi said: Obtaining ten thousand soldiers capable of battle is not as good as hearing one word that strikes at the heart of the matter. Obtaining the Marquis of Sui's pearl (a legendary precious pearl) is not as good as understanding the root cause of events, and obtaining He's jade disc (a legendary famous jade) is not as good as knowing where affairs should return. Though the world is vast, states that delight in using military force will ultimately perish, and even if a state is secure for a time, fondness for war brings danger. Therefore it is said: "Keep the state small and the people few, and even if there are implements of many kinds, do not use them."

Laozi said: Even if one can accomplish the enterprise of hegemon or king, one who delights in military force will still walk the path to ruin, and even if a state is secure for a time, fondness for war brings danger. Therefore it is said: "Keep the state small and the people few, and even if there are implements of many kinds, do not use them."

Laozi said: Those who can achieve hegemony and rule as kings must be skilled at winning. Those who are skilled at defeating enemies must possess great strength. Those who are truly strong must be skilled at borrowing the strength of others. Those who borrow the strength of others will win the hearts of the people, and those who win the hearts of the people must first be able to make themselves settled and self-sufficient. Those who can be at ease in their proper place must understand softness and humility.

Those who defeat only those who are weaker than themselves will fall into deadlock when they meet an equal. To defeat an equal through softness and weakness makes the outcome of victory and defeat hard to predict. Therefore, one who can gather the strength of the multitude can achieve great victory.

Scroll Five: Dao De

Wenzi (Master Wen) asked Laozi about the Dao (the Way). Laozi said: If one's study and inquiry are not profound, then even when one hears the teachings, one will not understand them thoroughly. People listen to the Dao in order to increase their wisdom, put it into action, and achieve merit and fame. If they cannot reach profound clarity, they will find it difficult to measure and grasp the principles within it. Therefore, one who can gather the strength of the multitude can achieve great victory.

Scroll Five: Dao De

Wenzi asked what the Dao (the Way) is, and Laozi replied: if one's study and inquiry are not refined, one who hears of the Great Dao will not penetrate it deeply. People listen to the Dao for different reasons: some to increase their wisdom, some to cultivate De (Virtue/Power), and some to achieve fame and merit. If understanding is not refined, one will not comprehend; if listening is not deep, one cannot reach the principle. Therefore, the highest kind of learning is received with the spirit, the middling kind with the heart-mind, and the lowest kind with the ears alone. Learning by the ears alone stays on the surface; learning with the heart-mind enters the flesh; learning with the spirit penetrates to the bone. If listening is not deep, one's understanding will not be clear; if understanding is not clear, one cannot grasp its essentials; and if the essentials are not grasped, practice will hardly succeed.

The method of hearing the Dao is to keep the mind empty, still, and clear, not allowing the vital energy and intention to become agitated, nor letting thoughts run wild. The eyes should not wander, and the ears should not listen carelessly. One must treasure the spirit and accumulate cultivation, so that the inner mind becomes focused and full. Once the principle has been understood, one must hold it firmly and persist in it over a long time.

The generation of the Dao has its root and its beginning. Things begin in softness and weakness and gradually develop into hardness and strength; they begin as small and scarce and gradually grow into abundance and greatness. A tree that ten people can embrace once began as a thin sapling, and a hundred-ren terrace likewise begins from its foundation. This is the Way of Heaven (tiandao). The sage follows the Way of Heaven: dwelling in a low position is a way of placing oneself beneath others, withdrawing behind others is a way of remaining last, frugality is a way of not seeking extravagance, and reduction is a way of not seeking excess. Humility thus allows one to dwell in honor, yielding allows one to stand first, frugality allows one to accumulate abundantly, and reduction allows one to achieve greatness. All of these are accomplished by the Way of Heaven.

The Dao is the root of De, the foundation of great undertakings, and the gateway to blessings. All things depend on the Dao to grow, to be accomplished, and to be settled. The Dao is non-action (Wuwei) and formless: it can cultivate the self internally and govern others externally. When achievements are realized and affairs brought to completion, one accords with the Way of Heaven. It seems to take no action, yet nothing lies beyond its accomplishment. Its true condition is difficult to grasp, yet within it there is a basis that can be trusted.

When the Son of Heaven possesses the Dao, all under heaven submits to him and the state endures for a long time. When the dukes and lords possess the Dao, the people live in harmony and the state does not fall. When scholars and commoners possess the Dao, they can preserve themselves and protect their families. A strong party that practices the Dao may win without fighting, and a weak party that practices it may gain without contending. Acting in accordance with the Dao in one's affairs leads to success and to receiving blessings. When ruler and minister possess the Dao, they are loyal and confer benefits upon one another; when father and son possess it, they are compassionate and filial; when scholars and commoners possess it, they love one another. Thus, practicing the Dao brings wisdom, while departing from it brings harshness. From this it is clear that the Dao applies to every human relationship and every affair in the world.

Practicing the Dao to a small degree yields small blessings, practicing it to a greater degree yields great blessings, and following it completely brings all under heaven into submission. Once all under heaven submits, hearts will bear it devotion. Therefore, the emperor (di) is the one toward whom all under heaven turns, and the king (wang) is the one to whom all under heaven goes to attach itself. If all under heaven neither turns toward nor attaches itself to a ruler, he cannot be called a sovereign. A ruler who does not win the people cannot accomplish his enterprise, and even if he wins the people, if he loses the Dao he cannot keep the state for long.

Those who depart from the Dao become extravagant and dissolute, arrogant and self-important, they display themselves and insist on boasting of their strength, and they stir up disorder and sow enmity. They become the source of war and the origin of upheaval. When a petty person does this, he brings great calamity upon himself; when a person in high office does this, he brings ruin upon the state. Misfortune falls upon oneself if the offense is light, and upon one's descendants if it is grave. The greatest fault lies in abandoning the Dao, and the deepest resentment lies in lacking De. This is the regularity of the Way of Heaven.

Laozi said: when the Way governs the realm, even if people are fierce, they cannot manage to pierce others with a weapon; even if they are highly skilled, they cannot manage to strike others. Yet even when people fail to pierce or strike, such a state still subjects them to humiliation. It is better to make it so that, although they have courage and strength, they have no means at all to put them into action; although they have skill, they have no way at all to launch an attack.

To say "not daring" does not mean that there is no thought of acting in one's mind; it is better that people have no such thought at their root. Those who have no such thought in their hearts likewise have no intention of inviting gain, harm, or strife. Going a step further, one should bring it about that the men and women of the realm are glad to cherish and help one another. When this is achieved, even if there is no land to govern and no office to hold, the people of the realm will all be willing to keep him secure and to benefit him.

Therefore, those who are bold in showing off their strength and quick to act recklessly easily bring upon themselves the calamity of losing their lives; those who are bold in restraint and do not act rashly are the ones who preserve their lives.

Wenzi asked what De (Virtue) is. Laozi replied: to nurture all things so that they grow and flourish, to benefit all beings universally without seeking return, and to act in accord with the movements of Heaven and Earth. This is called De.

What is ren (benevolence)? When in a high position, one does not boast of one's merits; when in a low position, one is not ashamed of one's own hardship. One is not arrogant toward the powerful or disdainful toward the weak. One cares for the multitude universally and without private interest, and sustains this over time without diminishing. This is called ren.

What is yi (righteousness)? When in a high position, one supports the weak; when in a low position, one holds fast to integrity. When fortune favors, one does not indulge; when hardship comes, one does not abandon one's principles. One always follows consistent standards and reason, and does not distort what is right for the sake of private gain. This is called yi.

What is li (propriety)? When in a high position, one is dignified and solemn; when in a low position, one is humble and respectful. One yields, keeps to softness, and is willing to stand behind everyone under heaven. One establishes oneself without daring to assert strength and acts without boasting of ability. This is called li.

Therefore, when De is cultivated, the common people will heed the commands of their rulers; when ren is cultivated, the people will not quarrel with one another; when yi is cultivated, the people will be fair and upright; and when li is cultivated, the people will respect one another. When all four of these virtues are cultivated, the state will be secure.

All things come to life from the Dao (the Way); their growth is manifested as De, their being cherished as ren, their being rectified as yi, and their being honored as li. Without nurture, things cannot grow to their full size; without loving care, affairs cannot be accomplished; without correction and straightening, things cannot endure; and without respect and esteem, they cannot be valued.

Thus, De is what the common people treasure, ren is what they draw close to, yi is what they stand in awe of, and li is what they honor. These four are the manifestations of orderly patterning and proper arrangement, and they are also the principles by which the sage governs all things.

If a gentleman lacks De, the people will resent him; without ren, they will fight; without yi, they will become violent; and without li, they will fall into chaos. If these four fundamental principles are not established, this is called being without Dao. There has never been a case of one who was without Dao and did not perish.

In an age when Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue) were pure and abundant, merchants could trade smoothly in the marketplace, farmers took joy in tilling their fields, officials were content with their duties, reclusive scholars devoted themselves wholeheartedly to cultivating the Way, and the common people all took pleasure in their livelihoods. Therefore wind and rain did not destroy the crops and plants, and the myriad creatures did not wither and die. The Yellow River brought forth the Hetu (River Chart), and the Luo River brought forth the Luoshu (Luo Writing); these were the auspicious omens the ancients spoke of.

When the age was in decline, taxes were levied without restraint, killing never ceased, those who remonstrated were punished, and worthy scholars were murdered. Therefore mountains collapsed and rivers dried up, insects multiplied without end, and the fields bore no vegetables of any kind. From this we can see that when the realm is at peace, the foolish cannot by themselves throw affairs into disorder; when the realm is in chaos, even the wise cannot govern it through their own strength alone. The sage remains calm and tranquil because they accord with the nature of life; whether the highest virtue and art can be put into practice, however, depends on the times. A person must be born in the right time before they can display their abilities, and only when the time is fitting can their talents become manifest. Thus there must first be a suitable age before there can be people capable of accomplishing a great undertaking.

Wenzi asked what constitutes sagely clarity and wisdom. Laozi replied that to know a matter before it has occurred is clarity, and to understand it only after its signs have become visible is wisdom. The sage, on hearing of the source from which fortune and misfortune arise, chooses a suitable path; the wise person, on seeing that fortune or misfortune has already appeared, chooses an appropriate course of action. The sage understands the changes of good and ill fortune within the movement of the Way of Heaven (tiandao), and so can grasp the causes of fortune and misfortune; the wise person can detect in advance the signs of their appearance, and so knows where fortune and misfortune will arise. To know a matter before it occurs is clarity; to judge it once it appears is wisdom; and one who neither hears nor sees anything is simply ignorant and confused.

If a ruler single-mindedly pursues a name for righteousness, they will easily act on their own judgment alone, regarding themselves as wise and as bestowers of favor. Yet affairs are many and human wisdom is limited, and to deal with complicated matters through limited insight has never been fully adequate. To rely solely on one's own wisdom will inevitably bring many errors. Coveting schemes readily leads one into cunning calculation; delighting in displays of force is the road to danger and ruin; and an excessive fondness for giving causes rewards and distributions to lose all fixed standards. When those above have no fixed measure in distribution, those below will endlessly keep waiting; if one gathers in wealth too heavily, one will incur resentment among the people. Collecting little and giving much, the goods needed will in the end never be exhausted, so even indulgence in generosity may invite resentment. From this we see that wealth is not sufficient to sustain governance, and that following the Dao and its standards is the wise course.

Wenzi asked, "How did the rulers of antiquity govern the realm by the Way (Dao)? What exactly did they do?"

Laozi said, "Hold to the root and follow what is natural, responding to the transformations of Heaven and Earth. The realm is a great vessel. It cannot be forcibly grasped, nor can it be handled willfully. To force one's action is to fail, and to insist on control is to lose it. What is called 'holding to the One' means looking at things from their finest beginnings. Only by attending to the subtle can one accomplish great things. What is called Wuwei (non-action) means preserving stillness. Only by keeping to stillness can one become the standard for all under heaven.

"Those who occupy high position should be prosperous without overflowing, and honored without arrogance. Only thus can wealth and rank be kept for long. Being high without danger, one can long hold the high position. Being honored without pride, one can long keep that honor. Wealth and rank will not depart from one's person, and blessings and emolument will extend to one's descendants. The governing principles of the rulers of antiquity lie roughly in this."

Laozi continued, "The common people have a Way that they all follow and a standard of law that they all observe. But righteousness alone cannot ensure that people hold to these together, and force and authority alone cannot make them obey forever. Therefore a ruler must be established to unify governance. When the ruler holds to the root, the state is secure. Without a constant standard, the state falls into chaos.

"The Way of the ruler does not lie in arbitrary action but in Wuwei. The wise do not treat virtue (De) as a tool for seeking private gain. The brave do not rely on strength to commit violence. The benevolent do not use their position to bestow favors and win goodwill. Only then can one be said to have grasped the root. This 'One' is the Way that inclines toward no side, and it is the root of all things.

"When a ruler changes laws repeatedly and the state frequently replaces its rulers, people use their positions to satisfy their likes and dislikes. Subordinates, out of fear, each go their own way, and the state becomes difficult to govern. Therefore, when a ruler loses the root, the chaos of the state is even worse than when there is no ruler at all. The ruler must hold to the root so that the multitude can be united."

Wenzi asked, "How many kinds of kingly Way (Wangdao) are there?"

Laozi said, "Only one."

Wenzi said: In antiquity, some rulers became kings by governing the realm through the Dao (the Way), and others became kings through military force. What do these have in common? The reply: Those who become kings through the Dao rely on De (Virtue). Those who become kings through military strength also cannot do without De.

Military campaigns take five forms: righteous troops, responsive troops, wrathful troops, greedy troops, and arrogant troops. Campaigns that punish the tyrannical and aid the weak are called righteous troops. When an enemy invades and one is compelled to take up arms, these are called responsive troops. Fighting over trifles and being unable to restrain one's anger produces wrathful troops. Coveting others' land and wealth produces greedy troops. Relying on a strong state and a numerous populace, and considering oneself superior to other states, produces arrogant troops. Righteous troops can make a king, responsive troops can achieve victory, reckless troops will be defeated, greedy troops will bring about their own ruin, and arrogant troops will cause the state to fall. This is the regularity of the Heavenly Dao.

Laozi said: To abandon the Dao and act solely on cleverness and craft is perilous, and to cast aside ordinary principles and rely only on personal talent is to fall into difficulty. Therefore one should keep to one's proper station and follow the patterns of things. Losing something need not cause grief, and gaining something need not cause joy. Achievement does not come from deliberate pursuit, and acquisition does not come from forcing. When receiving things, one accepts what comes but does not grasp greedily. When giving, one bestows but seeks no return. Following the growth of spring and the austerity of autumn, the myriad things grow without boasting of merit and wither without resentment. In this way one comes close to the Dao.

Wenzi asked: How can a ruler win the hearts of the people?

Laozi replied: He should be like the rivers and seas. Rivers and seas seem plain and tasteless, yet their supply is inexhaustible. They begin from low places and gather into greatness. Wishing to stand above others, one must lower oneself in speech. Wishing to lead the people, one must step back from one's own interests. In this way, the people of the realm will naturally emulate his benevolence and advance humaneness and rightness, and no harsh or overbearing air will arise.

Dwelling in high position, the people do not feel the burden. Walking at the head of the multitude, they do not feel harmed. The realm delights in supporting him and does not tire of him. Even distant states, peoples of differing customs, and creatures from flying insects to crawling worms all draw near to him. No place is impassable and no affair fails to succeed, and so he is honored throughout the realm.

Laozi said: To cling to the laws and texts of a particular age and use them to reject the customs of later generations is like gluing the movable bridges of a zither in place, so that it can no longer be tuned. A sage adapts to the times and responds flexibly, observing circumstances as they are and taking appropriate measures. When the world changes, affairs change; as the age shifts, customs change too. Therefore, laws should be established according to the conditions of the present, and government should be conducted in keeping with the times.

The ancient kings established different laws, not because they contradicted one another, but because the affairs they faced were different. Those who govern should not simply copy laws already in place; they should learn the principles by which laws are made and adjust their methods as circumstances change. A sage’s laws can be observed and studied, but the fundamental reasons for creating them cannot be pursued in the same way. A sage’s words can be heard, but the inner basis on which they were spoken is difficult to describe in any concrete form.

The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors regarded the authority of ruling the world lightly and did not treat the myriad things as precious. They saw life and death as equal, followed the transformations of the myriad things, embraced the Dao (the fundamental pattern of the cosmos), and treated people with sincerity. With minds like clear mirrors, they discerned the true state of things. Above, they aligned themselves with the Dao; below, they followed change and governed worldly affairs. Today, those who wish to learn their way but cannot attain clarity of mind, and instead cling to the laws of earlier generations and follow them by rote, will surely be unable to govern the world well by those means.

Wenzi asked how to govern a state. Laozi said: “Govern in accordance with the Dao (the Way), and nurture the people through De (Virtue/Power). Do not flaunt your abilities or impose policies by force. Reduce selfish desires and hold fast to what is fundamental. Do not make power and profit your aims, or stir up the people’s greed. Be upright without harming others, incorruptible without being harsh. Do not boast or claim credit. Govern in accordance with the Dao, and the people will rally to you; nurture them through De, and they will follow. Do not flaunt your abilities, and the people will be content; do not impose policies by force, and they will remain simple and honest.

“Not flaunting one’s abilities means valuing frugality; not imposing policies by force means daring not to act recklessly. By placing yourself below others and treating the people with humility, you can unite them. If you rely on bribes to win their loyalty, you are merely using frugality to preserve yourself, while failing to nurture the people through De. If you cannot be humble, the people will scatter; if you do not nurture them, they will turn against you. Flaunt your abilities, and they will compete for fame and profit; impose policies by force, and they will grow resentful. When the people scatter, the state declines; when they turn against you, the ruler loses authority; when they compete with one another, they are more likely to break the law; when those below resent those above, the ruler’s position is in danger. If you can truly achieve these four things, your rule will be close to the right way.

“Laozi also said: ‘The words of those above are often carried out by those below; the words of those below may also be put to use by those above. The conduct and words of those above generally follow the established way, while those of those below may sometimes be expedient. Only a sage knows when to adapt. To speak with complete honesty and keep every promise is certainly a virtue esteemed throughout the world. Yet who would consider it admirable to expose one’s father by speaking plainly, or to keep a promise so faithfully that one’s daughter dies? Thus, when judging what is right or wrong, a sage adjusts when to advance or withdraw according to the circumstances, and follows no fixed rule. At a sacrifice, the officiant addresses the ruler as “lord”; when someone is drowning, one may seize one’s father and pull him to safety. The circumstances demand it.

“‘Quan means the sage’s distinctive ability to discern circumstances and respond flexibly. To depart temporarily from what is normally right, then return to the right way, is called adapting to circumstances. To go along with the circumstances at first, only to depart from the right way in the end, is a failure to adapt. Those who cannot adapt turn what was originally good conduct into an inappropriate outcome.’

“Wenzi asked: ‘Does the Master mean that without relying on Dao and De, it is impossible to govern the world? To depart temporarily from what is normally right and later accord with the right way is what is called adapting to circumstances; to go along with the circumstances and later depart from the right way is a failure to adapt. Those who cannot adapt turn good deeds into bad ones.’”

Wenzi asked Laozi, “You say that the world cannot be governed without relying on morality. Yet in ancient times, some rulers inherited their ancestors’ realm for generations, and some lacked the Way, but lived out their lives without suffering disaster or ruin. How is this to be explained?”

Laozi replied, “From the Son of Heaven down to the common people, each makes a living, but lives may go well or badly. States often perish and families often decline; the root cause is a failure to uphold morality. A ruler works diligently day and night, never daring to grow lax, and remains constantly vigilant, fearing that the state will fall into danger and ruin. If he gives free rein to his desires and grows idle and negligent, destruction may come at any moment. If Xia Jie and Shang Zhou had followed the right path and governed with virtue, then even if Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou had been worthy, they would have had no opportunity to establish the merit of overthrowing them.

Morality enables people to nurture and support one another and grow together; it also enables them to love and respect one another. Even a dull creature such as the deaf insect does not harm what it loves. If all the people in the world held compassion in their hearts, where could disaster arise?

Some rulers lacked the Way yet suffered no harm because their compassion had not yet been extinguished, and proper righteousness had not yet disappeared. Yet even while compassion and righteousness remain, the feudal lords may look down on the ruler. Once they do, the court loses its respect, and rebellion follows. If benevolence and righteousness are extinguished entirely, the feudal lords will turn against one another, people will fight with weapons, the strong will bully the weak, great states will seize from small ones, and the people will take mutual attacks as a normal state of affairs. Then calamities will appear and disorder will arise; the state will soon perish. How could it remain free of trouble for long?”

Laozi said, “When laws and commands are numerous and punishments severe, the people will resort to deceit. When those above burden affairs with complicated policies, those below will respond with all manner of evasion. The more one demands, the less one obtains; the more prohibitions one imposes, the more violations there will be. To create new business with one measure, then use that new business to curb the first, is like fanning a flame while hoping to prevent a fire. To stir up trouble through schemes and then use schemes to guard against it is like churning the water while hoping to make it clear.”

Laozi said: If a ruler favors benevolence, he will reward those who have done nothing to merit it and pardon those who are guilty. If he favors harsh punishments, he will dismiss those who have earned merit and punish the innocent. Only when he favors no one and resents no one will people he punishes refrain from resentment; when he grants favors, he will not count them as his own achievements. A ruler should be as impartial as a straightedge, keeping personal affairs out of government and preventing private feelings from swaying him. Then he will be impartial and selfless like Heaven and Earth. How could he fail to shelter and sustain all things? Bringing people into harmony is the ruler’s responsibility; distinguishing right from wrong and punishing according to law is the work of the law. When ordinary people do not resent even the punishments they receive, this is called De.

Laozi said: Right and wrong in the world have no fixed standard. In every age and place, people regard what they like as right and what they dislike as wrong. When people pursue what they call “right,” they are not necessarily seeking the truth; often, they simply approve of what benefits them. And when they reject what they call “wrong,” they are often rejecting what does not suit their wishes. Now I want to choose what the world calls right and follow it, and discard what the world calls wrong, yet I do not know what people mean by right and wrong. That is why it is said: “Governing a large state is like cooking a small fish.” This image from the Dao De Jing means that governing calls for restraint: one should not stir things up or interfere too often. The key is simply not to disturb things without cause.

When you cater to someone and say what pleases them, the two of you grow closer. Yet even if a relationship is distant, a well-laid plan may still arouse suspicion. Now I want to set myself straight and quietly await what comes from outside. How could I know by what standards the world will judge me? If I rush about following the ways of the world, it is like trying to escape the rain: wherever I flee, I will get wet. If I deliberately pursue emptiness and stillness, I cannot truly become empty and still. But if I do not deliberately seek emptiness, and it comes naturally, then I can fulfill what I seek in my heart and reach everywhere.

Thus, one who understands the Dao is like an axle: it does not turn itself, yet it drives the hub—the central part of a wheel—and carries the cart a thousand miles. The wheels can therefore keep turning. The sage understands the Dao and returns to the root. Rather than rushing to change the myriad things, the sage waits for them to change of themselves. The sage acts, but does not force things according to private intentions.

Laozi says: “When a state wages war repeatedly and wins many victories, it will instead move toward ruin. Repeated campaigns exhaust the people; repeated victories make the ruler arrogant. A ruler who drives an exhausted people—few states can avoid ruin under such conditions. Arrogant, the ruler gives free rein to himself; once unchecked, he pursues every pleasure to its extreme. Exhausted, the people grow resentful; as resentment deepens, they rack their minds for ways to cope. When both ruler and people have reached extremes, no state has ever escaped ruin. That is why it is said: ‘When your work is done, withdraw. This accords with the Dao (the Way).’”

King Ping asked Wenzi, a Daoist figure: “I have heard that you received the Dao from Lao Dan—that is, Laozi. Now, although a wise person may possess the Dao, he may find himself in a corrupt and disordered age. How could one person hope to transform people who have lived in chaos for so long?”

Wenzi replied: “A person of Dao and De (Virtue/Power) can support what is declining and guide it back to the right path; quell disorder and restore good governance; and transform corrupt customs, helping people return to simplicity.”